"I don't see what there is to laugh about," ventured Sammy, severely.
The gravity of his tone sent the conductor off into another spasm.
"Why," he said as soon as he could speak, "I know those men and have known them for years. They're two of the finest fellows I know. They wouldn't commit murder any more than you or I would."
"I only know what I heard," replied Sammy, sulkily.
"Just what did you hear?" rejoined the conductor. "Try to remember the exact words."
The words had been graven so deeply on Sammy's memory at the time that he had no trouble in recalling them.
"One of the men said," he began slowly; "'He tried to make it but Billy was too quick for him. He killed him right then and there.' Then the other man said: 'Good work.' Then the first man said: 'You ought to have seen him kick. I had to laugh when I saw his face.'
"That's all I could hear just then, but a little later I heard one of them say something about 'stealing.' Then they must have meant the man who had been killed when one of them said: 'He was badly cut up but his squealing did no good.' That's how I knew they must have killed the man with a knife."
While Sammy talked, the conductor was evidently piecing the sentences together. Then a light dawned in his eyes and he was about to let himself go into peals of laughter when he caught sight of the bewildered look in Sammy's eyes, and, being a kindly man, tried to control himself.
"Look here, my boy," he said. "I can see just how this whole thing has come about.