Samson threw him to the ground with a jerk so strong and violent that it
rent the sleeve from his shoulder. McNoll's companion who had felt the
weight of Samson's hand and had had enough of it turned and ran.

"What do ye want o' me?" McNoll asked again as he struggled to free
himself.

"What do I want o' you--you puny little coward," said Samson, as he
lifted the bully to his feet and gave him a toss and swung him in the air
and continued to address him. "I'm just goin' to muss you up proper. If
you don't say you're sorry and mean it I'll put a tow string on your neck
and give you to some one that wants a dog."

"I'm sorry," said McNoll. "Honest I am! I was drunk when I done it."

Samson released his prisoner. A number in the crowd which had gathered
around them clapped their hands and shouted, "Hurrah for the stranger!"

A constable took Samson's hand and said: "You deserve a vote of thanks.
That man and his friends have made me more trouble than all the rest of
the drinking men put together."

"And I am making trouble for myself," said Samson. "I have made myself
ashamed. I am no fighting man, I was never in such a muss on a public
street before and with God's help it will never happen again."

"Where do you live?" the officer asked.

"In New Salem."