THE WILD STEER
Mr. Post had the cigar smoker tightly by the wrist. The young man tried to break away, but as there were other persons between him and the car steps he was hemmed in. He made a rapid motion toward the passenger whom he had so berated for jostling him.
"Ah, I thought so!" exclaimed the gray-haired man, who had remained a quiet spectator of the excitement. "It's about time I took a hand in the game."
He made a rapid motion, intercepted the hand of the smoker which had been extended to the original cause of the disturbance, and grabbing something from it said:
"There's your diamond, stranger. Take care of it until I put the nippers on these thieves!"
The gray-haired man tried to edge his way around the crowd to get close to the two men who seemed to be the principal actors in the adventure. As he did so, the man who had been smoking—making a flying leap over the back platform railing, darted up the street. At the same time the man who had been accused of causing the cigar ashes to scatter over Mr. Post's vest, slipped from the steps and made a hurried run for the sidewalk.
"After him, some one!" cried the gray-haired man. "I'll get the other chap. He's the main one. The other is only a confederate," and he was off in a trice.
The car did not stop, though several men, understanding what it was all about, called the conductor.
"Can't delay," replied the knight of the bell-rope. "If you want to see the fun, get off. Pickpockets are too common to stop the car for."
"Well, I reckon I blocked his game that time," said Mr. Post, as he looked at the diamond which had lately adorned his shirt front. "I don't read the newspapers for nothing, and they'll find Josh Post is hard to beat."