In the old fighting days Michigan railroads chose their train officials with an eye to their superior deltoids.

A conductor who could not throw an undesirable fare through a car window lived a short official life.

The two men loomed on the noisy smoking compartment.
"Tickets, please!" clicked the conductor sharply.
Most of the men began to fumble about in their pockets, but the three singers and the one who had been offering the quart bottle did not stir.
"Ticket, Jack!" repeated the conductor, "come on, now." The big bearded man leaned uncertainly against the seat.
"Now look here, Bud," he urged in wheedling tones, "I ain't got no ticket.

You know how it is, Bud.

I blows my stake." He fished uncertainly in his pocket and produced the quart bottle, nearly empty, "Have a drink ?" "No," said the conductor sharply.
"A' right," replied Jack, amiably, "take one myself." He tipped the bottle, emptied it, and hurled it through a window.