his style, no how, and he just politely told me ter go plumb ter hell, an’ then waltzed out alone without nary a gun in his fist.  He wus purty white round the lips, but I reckon it wus only mad, fur thar wus n’t nothin’ weak about his voice, an’ the way he lambasted thet thief wus a caution ter snakes.  Say, I ’ve heerd some considerable ornate language in my time, but thet kid had a cinch on the dictionary all right, an’ he read them two ducks the riot act good an’ plenty.  Thet long-legged Lane, he did n’t have no sand, an’ hung back and did n’t say much, but the other feller tried every sneakin’ trick a thief knows, only he bucked up agin a stone wall every time.  Thet young feller just simply slathered him; he called him every name I ever heerd, an’ some considerable others, an’ finally, when the train was a-pullin’ in, the cuss unlimbered his wad, an’ began peelin’ off the tens an’ twenties till I thought the whole show wus over fer sure.  But Lord!  I didn’t know thet kid—­no more did thet Albrecht.”

Hicks wet his lips with his tongue, pausing, after the manner of a good raconteur, to gaze calmly about upon the faces of his auditors.

“I could n’t see jist how much the feller disgorged, but he wus almighty reluctant an’ nifty about it; an’ then I heerd him say, sneerin’-like, ‘Now, damn yer, how much more do you want?’ An’, gents, what do yer think thet actor kid did?  Cop ther whole blame pile?  Not on yer whiskers, he didn’t.  He jist shoved them scads what hed been given him careless-like down inter his coat pocket, an’ faced Mister Manager.  ‘Not a dirty penny, Albrecht,’ he said, sorter soft-like; ’I ‘m a-goin’ to take whut yer owe me out of yer right now.’  An’, by gory, gents, he sure did.  I can’t say as how I see much o’ the fracas, ‘ceptin’ the dust, but when thet long-legged Lane jerked out a pearl-handled pop-gun I jist naturally rapped him over the knuckles with my ‘45.’ an’ then tossed him over inter the bunch.  Say, thet beat any three-ringed circus ever I see.  The kid he pounded Albrecht’s head on the platform, occasionally interestin’ Lane by kickin’ him in the stomick, while I jist waltzed ‘round promiscous-like without seein’ no special occasion to take holt anywhar.  I reckon they ’d a been thar yit, if the train hands had n’t pried ’em apart, an’ loaded the remains onter a keer.  An’ then thet actor kid he stood thar lookin’ fust at me, an’ then after them keers.  ‘Hicks,’ he panted, ’did I git fifty dollars’ worth?’ ‘I rather reckon ye did,’ I said, thoughtfully, ’en maybe it mought be a hundred.’  An’ then he laughed, an’ brushed the dust off his clothes.  ‘All right, then,’ says he; ‘let’s eat.’  An’ I never see no nicer feller after he got thet load offen his mind.”