North Street is broad and West Street is broad, and there is abundance of room for man and beast.
At the hour in question there were no women, children, or horses in the street; the crossings were clear save for a young man with a straw hat, whose general appearance betrayed no sign of undue timidity. He was on the far crossing, sixty or seventy feet distant. When the horn was sounded for the turn down into West Street, he turned, gave one look at the machine, jumped, and ran. In a few moments the young man with the straw hat came to the place where the machine had stopped. He was followed by a short, stubby little friend with a sandy beard, who, while apparently acting as second, threatened each moment to take the matter into his own hands and usurp the place of principal.
Straw Hat was placable and quite disposed to accept an expression of regret that fright had been occasioned.
Sandy Beard would not have it so, and urged Straw Hat to make a complaint.
Straw Hat spurred on his flagging indignation and asked for a card.
Sandy Beard told Straw Hat not to be deterred by soft words and civility, and promised to stand by him, or rather back of him; whereupon something like the following might have occurred.
Sandy Beard.—Then you know what is to be done?
Straw Hat.—Not I, upon my soul!
Sandy Beard.—We wear no clubs here, but you understand me.
Straw Hat.—What! arrest him.