Sam had bolted through the dining-room, upset the Chinaman in the kitchen, and fallen over a bucket of ashes in the coal-shed in his flight for freedom.

He had not stopped at that, but had scurried off up the railroad track.

The general opinion among the spectators was that he had, by this time, reached the next station and was hiding in a cellar there.
Bill Wright hysterically insisted that it was up to Tom Aldershot, who was a deputy town marshal.

Tom, however, was working on the house he hoped to have ready for his prospective bride by Thanksgiving, and hated to be interrupted for the sake of a few broken heads only.
"He ain't shooting up nobody," he argued from the platform, where he was doing "inside work" on his dining-room while the storm lasted.

"He never does cut loose with his gun when he's drunk.