“I take this opportunity to call your attention to my Eureky rat-trap,” continued the new passenger; “the noblest Roman of them all. Try one, and you will use no other. It is constructed on——”
“Who in thunder do you take me for?” exclaimed the bald-headed man at this point. “What in blazes do I want of your rat-trap?”
“To ketch rats!” humbly replied the stranger; “to clear yer premises of one of the most obnoxious pests known to man. I believe I am safe in saying that this ’ere——”
“Go away, sir—go away; or I’ll knock your blamed head off!” roared the Bald-head. “When I want a rat-trap I shan’t patronise travelling vagabonds! Your audacity in daring to put your hand on my head and wake me up deserves a caning!”
“Then you don’t want a rat-trap?”
“No, SIR!” yelled Bald-head.
“I’ll make you one mighty cheap.”
“I’ll knock you down, sir!” roared Bald-head, looking around for his cane.
“Oh, wall, I ain’t a starvin’, and it won’t make much difference if I don’t sell to you!” remarked the stranger, and he backed off and left the cabin for the promenade deck.
An old maid sat in the shadow of the Texas, embroidering a slipper, and the rat-trap man drew a stool up beside her and remarked—