“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. The conductor paid no apparent attention to the breaking of the glass. “If you haven't any ticket, you'll have to get off,” said he. The big man straightened up. “You go to hell!” he snorted, and with the sole of his spiked boot delivered a mighty kick at the conductor's thigh. The official, agile as a wild cat, leaped back, then forward, and knocked the man half the length of the car. You see, he was used to it. Before Jack could regain his feet the official stood over him. The three men in the corner had also risen, and were staggering down the aisle intent on battle. The conductor took in the chances with professional rapidity. “Get at 'em, Jimmy,” said he. And as the big man finally swayed to his feet, he was seized by the collar and trousers in the grip known to “bouncers” everywhere, hustled to the door, which someone obligingly opened, and hurled from the moving train into the snow. The conductor did not care a straw whether the obstreperous Jack lit on his head or his feet, hit a snowbank or a pile of ties. Those were rough days, and the preservation of authority demanded harsh measures. Jimmy had got at 'em in a method of his own. He gathered himself into a ball of potential trouble, and hurled himself bodily at the legs of his opponents which he gathered in a mighty bear hug. It would have been poor fighting had Jimmy to carry the affair to a finish by himself, but considered as an expedient to gain time for the ejectment proceedings, it was admirable. The conductor returned to find a kicking, rolling, gouging mass of kinetic energy knocking the varnish off all one end of the car. A head appearing, he coolly batted it three times against a corner of the seat arm, after which he pulled the contestant out by the hair and threw him into a seat where he lay limp. Then it could be seen that Jimmy had clasped tight in his embrace a leg each of the other two. He hugged them close to his breast, and jammed his face down against them to protect his features. They could pound the top of his head and welcome. The only thing he really feared was a kick in the side, and for that there was hardly room. The conductor stood over the heap, at a manifest advantage. “You lumber-jacks had enough, or do you want to catch it plenty?” The men, drunk though they were, realized their helplessness. They signified they had had enough. Jimmy thereupon released them and stood up, brushing down his tousled hair with his stubby fingers. “Now is it ticket or bounce?” inquired the conductor.