I told him Ben had worked up from yardmaster at Wallace to assistant division superintendent at Tekoa, where he would probably find him; and I wished him God-speed.

He said he rejoiced to know of Ben’s promotion, because he had probably softened some, setting round an office.  He promised to let me know the result at once.  He did.  It was the same old result.  The fight had gone a few more rounds, I gathered, but Ed still gave the decision against himself in the same conscientious way.  He said Ben had licked him fair.  It was uncanny the way he took these defeats.  No other human being but would of made some little excuse.  He came back in another suit and a bit blemished in the face, and said Ben seemed to be getting a fair amount of exercise in spite of his confining office duties; but—­mark his words—­that indoor work would get him in time.  He’d never seen a man yet that could set at a desk all day and keep in shape to resent fighting talk, even from a lighter man by twenty pounds.  He said he might have to wait till Ben was general manager, or something; but his day was coming, and it would be nothing for Ben to cheer about when it got here.  He now once more drifted out over the high horizon, only one eye being much help to him in seeing the way.

Then Ben come down and had a wholehearted session with me.  He said I ought to have a talk with Ed and reason him out of his folly.  I said Ed would listen to a number of things, but not to reason.  He said he knew it; that the poor coot should be in some good institution right now, where the state could look after him.  He said he couldn’t answer for the consequences if Ed kept on in this mad way.  He said here he was, climbing up in his profession, and yet with this scandal in his private life that might crop out any time and blast his career; and, by doggie, it was a shame!  He said it was hanging over him like a doom and sometimes he even woke up in the night and wished he had made a different report about the accident—­one with a little hysterics or description in it, like this maniac had seemed to crave.

“It ain’t that I can’t lick him,” says Ben—­“I’ve proved that three times; but having to do it every so often, which is beneath the dignity of a high railroad official.  I might as well be a common rowdy and be done with it, by doggie!  And no telling what will happen if he don’t get his mind back.  The little devil is an awful scrapper.  I noticed it more than ever this last time.  One of these times he might get me.  He might get me good.”

“You better let him, then,” I says, “and have it over.  That’s the only thing which will ever stop him.  You take a man that says he was licked fair, but still keeps at it, and he’s deadly.  Next time he comes along you lay down after making a decent resistance.  Then he’ll probably be your friend for life, especially if you tell him you been thinking about his accident and it now seems like the most horrible accident that ever happened to man.”