"That would match your hair, wouldn't it, red-head?" called a shipmate who observed Hickey looking at the fez.
"I'll have it, too, if he gets near enough to me. Maybe you think I don't dare?"
"I dare you."
Sam made a dive for the conductor. Dan Davis stuck out a foot and Hickey measured his length on the ground, right at the feet of the gayly robed conductor.
"Who did that?" demanded the red-headed boy, bounding to his feet, his eyes blazing with wrath.
"I did. Do you think I am going to let you mix us up in any more trouble? If you had done what you proposed, we should have been arrested, the whole crowd of us. Now, behave yourself, Sam Hickey, or I'll thrash you right here before the train starts."
"That's the talk, Dynamite!" called another sailor.
"You can't do it. You can't——" sputtered Sam.
"All aboard!" howled the jackies. At the same time half a dozen of them picked Sam up bodily and tossed him in through a car window. The engine gave a toot, and the train moved off, all hands singing the "Star Spangled Banner."
For some distance the route led along the edge of the Suez canal. Ships were passed, and at sight of one the sailors would lean far out of the windows, swinging their caps and hurrahing.