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.