"'Get out--_hell!_' says he. He sticks his mug right in my face. "'That woman you speak so light of,' says he, 'is a queen. A Canuck queen,' say he. "I had to laugh. 'Since when was there queens in Canada?' says I. 'And since when has the Canuck queens been usin' stove polish for talcum powder?' "The guys grabs me by the coat. Listen. He was strong as a wire. He was deceivin'. A wire with ten thousand volts into it. "'Look at me!' says he, breathin' hard between his teeth. 'And take care!' says he. 'I'm a man no man can monkey with. I'm a man that'll go through. I'm stained with crime. I've waded through seas o' blood. Nothin' in heaven or earth or hell can stop me. A month from now rubes like you'll be glad to crawl at my feet--an' wipe their dirty mugs on the hem o' that there woman's skirt.--Now listen,' says he. 'Get the hell into that there box o' yourn over there and be quiet.' "Crazy as a loon. I hope to die! the guy was _dangerous_. I see that. It come to me it's best to humor him, and I go into the coop again. I sit there countin' my fingers and listenin' to Denver tellin' back them car numbers to Limon again. By and by I'm jumpy as a cat. I get up and stick a record in the old machine.--That's what brings the whole thing back to mind. That record is this 'Paragon Park.' "First thing I know I'm out in the waitin' room again. And what you think I see? I give you a hundred guesses." "I'll take one," I said to him. "What you saw was the finest exhibition of the 'Shimmie' you ever clapped an eye upon. Am I right?" The young fellow's mouth hung open. He stared at me. "Half undressed! Honest! That nigger woman! Horse blanket, feed sack, ar'tics--where was they? Shimmie? Say! Can you imagine, in that there prairie depot at three in the mornin', and a wind howlin' under the floor? Say! Well, I can't tell you, but talk about _Shimmie_! Say, she's like a dead one come to life." "Yes," I agreed, "yes.--But what about the man?" "Well, that man, now. The record's comin' to the end and I go back in to start it over. And, here's this hobo, come in behind me. "'What's that?' says he, pointin' to the record I got in my hand. "Then he grabs it and looks it over. He keeps turnin' it round and round and round, starin' at it. "'I hope you'll know it again,' says I, with a laugh. "My laugh seems to set him off into a shiver. Then down he throws that record o' mine onto the floor and stamps on it; busts it into a million pieces under his boots. I been tellin' you he's crazy. "'Here there!' I yell at him. "He looks at me. Looks right through me, it seems and beyond, with them there red-rimmed eyes. "'Seas o' blood,' says he. That's all. 'Seas o' blood!' "Then he turns around, walks out into the waitin' room, and sits down in a heap in the farthest corner. Never another peep. There he sits till daylight, and the nigger woman, with the horse blanket on again, she sits there beside him, holdin' his hand. "'What's up with him?' I ask her.