“Conductor, haven't I paid for this berth?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Is there any rule which prohibits snoring?”
“No, but—”
“Then you keep away from me! I have a revolver, and I might take you for a robber!”
Then I returned to the main question. I snored in every key of the scale. I snored for blood. I had every person in the car swearing mad and ready to fight, and they sent for the passenger conductor. He refused to interfere. Several chaps volunteered to “pull me out o' that,” but when they came close enough to see the muzzle of a revolver they fell back. At two o'clock in the morning they held a convention, and as the result one of them asked:
“Stranger, can we buy you off?”
“No, sir.”
“Is there any way on earth to stop that bazoo of yours?”
“The four of you who came in last were grossly selfish. You had no care for the rights of others. The four who were here before I came were disturbed but hadn't the grit to kick. Now, then, promise me on your solemn words that if you ever enter a sleeping-car again you will respect; the situation, and I will let you off.”