Ed was now well enough to stand shipping; so he come down to Red Gap and started to work.  He couldn’t get round with his machines yet; so he got a new Home Queen and parked himself in the doorway of a vacant store and made embroidered hat marks for the multitude at one dollar a throw.  Yes, sir; he congested traffic there on Fourth Street for about two weeks, taking a strip of satin ribbon and embroidering people’s initials on it, so they could sew it in their hats and know whose hat it was.  Hardly a hat in town that didn’t have one, with thrilled crowds looking on while he done it.

I begged him to take it easy and stay at my house till he was strong again; but he wouldn’t.  He said he had to do something just to keep from thinking.  Of course the poor lollop had never been able to think under any circumstances; but it sounded good.  And, of course, he told me his trouble.  I don’t believe he held back the least little thing from the beginning of the accident down to the time he lammed Ben with his crutch.  He now blamed everything on Ben.  He said neither the company nor any one else could take his accident seriously after that lying report Ben put in.  No wonder there hadn’t been any real excitement about it.  He was right bitter.

“‘Some distance’ Ben says I was thrown.  I should think it was some distance!  I’ll bet 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.