Old Medford, who is as mad as a conductor when you give him five pennies, insists that the Jonah be dumped overboard. A dogged, [120] ]determined committee has gone below to yank out Moxie Grandpa, who, as old Medford says, is an interloper, anyway, and has no more business on the Water Wagon than a trousers stretcher in a young ladies’ seminary.
Later.—Old Matzoon has been dragged up from the hold, kicking and clawing, and the passengers are balloting on the proper disposition of him.
While the ballot was being taken, another tidal wave of dust broke [121] ]over the hapless Lithia, and the enraged passengers and crew cried in chorus, “Over with the Jonah!” The wretched Moxie fiend was thereupon flung into the trailer, despite the protests of the magenta elephant and the Scotch-plaid guinea-pig.
At 1.20 P. M. the Lithia grounded with a fearful crash, and the billows of dust that broke over her carried away the sprinkler and all the spokes in the aft wheel. A composite picture of John B. Gough and Carrie Nation fell to the cabin floor and was totally wrecked.
[122] ]Buried in dust from deck to trucks, the Lithia lay on her side, pounding like a farmer at Coney Island on a “Try Your Strength” machine. The good old Wagon was doomed. Nothing could hold in such a simoom.