«Ah!» said Barker. «I see it's no good wasting civility on you any longer. I'll just have lo lake things into my own hands.» He rose, crossed over, put the far-side window up, and returned to his seat. «There,» he said, «make the best you can of that.»
«I will,» said Sturt, grimly. He rose, crossed over, let the far-side window down again, and resumed his seat. «And let me tell you,» he added, «that if you put that window up again, I'll put my foot through it, and punch your fat head into the bargain. Go on! Start as soon as you like.»
«Very good. Oh, very good indeed! That's a threat of personal violence, and we'll see what the guard has to say to it at the very next station. I happen to know that guard, and we've a pretty short way with Hooligans on this line. You'll be thrown out. Do you understand that? Out! Out!» roared Henry Shapman Barker, within an easy distance of apoplexy.
«Oh, stop that row, and don't make such a baby of yourself. You aren't fit to be let out alone,» and Sturt ostentatiously resumed his pocket-book, as the train slowed down into the next station.
Barker let down the near-side window, put his head out, and shouted, «Guard!» Nobody took the least notice of him. Then he shouted, «Where's that damned guard?» and an old lady told him he ought to be ashamed of himself, and moved off rapidly. Barker went on shouting. Sturt resumed his whistling.
The guard came at last bustling up just as the train was on the point of starting. «I know what it is,
