“What?” He stared blearily. His tone stiffened. “The hell you say. Too tony, eh? Too—’ic! Have a smile, I ask you, one gent to ’nother. Have a smile, you (unmentionable) pilgrim; fer if you don’t——”
“Train’s starting, Jim,” she interposed sharply. “If you want to get aboard you’d better hurry.”
The engine tooted, the bell was ringing, the passengers were hurrying, incited by the conductor’s shout: “All ’board!”
Without another word she tripped for the car steps. I gave the fellow one firm look as he stood stupidly scratching his thatch as if to harrow his ideas; and perforce left him. By the cheers he undoubtedly made in the same direction. I was barely in time myself. The train moved as I planted foot upon the steps of the nearest car—the foremost of the two. The train continued; halted again abruptly, while cheers rang riotous; and when I crossed the passageway between this car and ours the conductor and brakeman were hauling the tipsy Jim into safety.
My Lady was ensconced.
“Did they get him?” she inquired, when I paused.
“By the scruff of the neck. The drunken fellow, you mean.”
“Yes; Jim.”
“He’s from Benton. I suppose he’s been down here on a little pasear, as they say.”