"You were rough enough. I've got no use for a fellow who can't
take a joke without getting all riled up over it. Get out
of here!"

"What are you doing at this end of the car?" snarled the manager
to Henry, the English porter, who had been peering into the
office, wide-eyed. He had been a witness to the disturbance,
but at the manager's command he hastily withdrew to his own end
of the car.

"Shall we shake hands and be friends now, Mr. Snowden?"
asked Phil.

"Shake hands?"

"Yes, of course."

"No. I'll not shake hands with you. I want nothing further to
do with you. Either you get off this car, or I do. We can't
both live on it at the same time."

"So far as I am concerned, we can do so easily," answered the
Circus Boy.

"I said either you or I would have to get off, and I mean exactly
what I said."

The manager wheeled his chair about, facing his desk, and wrote
the following telegram: