In a few minutes the detective came back, panting. My blood was boiling.
“You great big brute, you,” I began. “Why don’t you jump somebody who has a decent chance, if you must act like a devil?”
“You’ve got your nerve, young lady, talking to me like that. Don’t you know I can run you and your old man in if I want to?”
“Oh, I suppose you could. But what makes you want to be so cruel? You don’t look like a brute.”
“Well, maybe I am too rough, though that is what I’m hired to be. Besides, some yeggs broke into a building in a little town up the line about a year ago, and when me and my mate tried to run them in, they shot my pal dead and winged me in the shoulder. Since then I club all hoboes on general principles.”
Just then I recognised Dan’s step as he came up the yard. The detective made a forward movement, but I seized him by the arm.
“That’s my husband coming, and you better let him alone. If you start clubbing him, I’ll fix you, pistol or no pistol.”
“Let go. I’ll not hurt him.”
He bounded forward, and intercepting Dan, questioned him closely. Then ordering him to remain where he was, he returned and questioned me. Then he summoned Dan.
“Well, people,” he said, as Dan came up. “I guess I’ll take a chance on you. If the conductor don’t get wise and make a kick, I’ll not see you when you get aboard that cattle car yonder. So long.”