Thomas' face blazed in an instant. That he, Mr. Bang's man, who had filled one place for a good dozen years, and was saving and industrious, with no taste for the company of low-lived fellows and no leaning toward their habits, should be brought face to face with one of them in this unlucky moment of his life when courage was at its lowest ebb, seemed to him the cruelest blow of Fate, and it deprived him of what little remaining sense he had. "If anyone says that to me again I'll pitch right into him," he shouted. "Good--hurrah! he knows what's what!" cried the fellow, a stalwart lounger whose only interest had been in seeing the train come in and depart. When that was over, he had nothing else for his active mind to work upon, and he hailed with delight this new excitement. "Come on, fellows, this chap is _de_termined to fight. So we won't disappoint him. You're a drunken, good-for-nothing sot," he cried in Thomas' face. Thomas gave one plunge and struck the quarrelsome man squarely in the face. "Take that, and that, and that," he cried, beside himself in a passion. Never in his life engaged in a quarrel involving blows, now that he was in one, it was purely delicious to give free rein to his anger, and for the first few moments he felt a man indeed. The young fellow thus struck and two or three other men now closed around him, and he was soon occupied in warding off as best he might the shower of blows, kicks and cuffs that fell to his portion. The noise brought speedily to the spot, the depot officials, one or two farmers riding by, and all the boys in the vicinity. "Stop--hold--I won't have any of that!" cried the ticket agent, puffing up in authority. "Oh! won't you?" cried one of the men whose blood was up, and pounding away at Thomas, whom they had succeeded in getting to the ground. "No, I won't," cried the ticket agent, "I'll have you all arrested." "Who's going to do it, I'd like to know," asked another man derisively. Meanwhile Thomas was shouting out his case, and succeeded in catching the ear of a farmer who sitting on the bags of meal in his wagon had paused to see what the trouble was about. "It's my opinion," said the farmer deliberately, and stopping to clear his throat now and then with a sharp _Hem!_ "that you want me to give you three chaps a poundin' that man, a taste of my whip, and it's also my opinion that I shall do it." With that he sprang from his wagon with surprising alertness considering he looked so old, and, whip in hand, he advanced upon the crowd. They all fell back. He had "whip" in his eye, and beside, every one knew Jacob Bassett, and that there was no reason to think he would fail to do as he said. Before all could desert Thomas, however, the last man had the benefit of the leather lash, and he ran off rubbing his leg, and uttering several ejaculations as if he had received enough.