et it's farther than any other man was ever thrown on
their whole rotten system. And 'Not serious'! Great Jeeminetty! What
would have to happen to a person before he'd call it serious? Oh, I'll
make him take that back if ever I get to be the man I once was! The only
trouble with Ben is, he hasn't anything here and he hasn't anything
here"--Ed put his hand first on his head and next on his heart, to show
me where Ben hadn't got anything--"and that kind of trash may make fine
railroad men, but they hadn't ought to be classed with human beings.
Just wait till I get firmly knitted together again! You'll see! I'll
certainly interfere with that man's career a-plenty. 'Not serious!' He
won't make any such report about himself when I get through fussing with
him. He certainly does need handling--that Ben Steptoe."

And so on for half an hour at a time, while he might be stitching G. W.
G. in purple letters on a strip of yellow satin ribbon. I used to stop on
purpose to hear some more about what he was going to do to Ben when he
got to be the man he once was.

Pretty soon he had identified all the hats in Red Gap; so he moved over
to Colfax with his Home Queen, and then on to other towns. It was spring
again before he seemed to be the man he once was. He wrote me from Tekoa
that if I read in the papers about something sad happening to Ben I
wasn't to be alarmed, because, though it would be serious enough, it
would probably not prove fatal if he had skilled nursing. So I watched
the papers, but couldn't find any crime of interest. And a few days
later Ed come over to Red Gap again. He looked pretty good, except for
an overripe spot round his left eye.

"Well, did you lick Ben?" I says.

"No; Ben licked me," he says.

I'd never heard such a simple and astounding speech from any man on earth
before. I started to find out what his excuse was--whether he wasn't in
good shape yet, or his foot slipped, or Ben took a coupling pin to him,
or something. But he didn't have a single word of excuse. He ought to of
been locked up in a glass case in a museum right there. He said he was in
fine shape and it had been a fair fight, and Ben had nearly knocked his
head off.

I says what is he going to do now; and he says oh, he'll wait a while and
give Cousin Ben another go.

I says: "Mebbe you can't lick Ben."

He says: "Possibly so; but I can keep on trying. I have to protect my
honour, don't I?"

That's how it seemed to the poor fish