Then, as briefly as I could, I explained the enormity of his offenses.
To take a chair from a table, as he had done, was a gross insult; to
receive a slap in the face and not to resent it, was another insult; to
tear up an opponent's visiting-card, still another; to take out a
revolver in Barscheit, unless you were an officer or had a permit, was
worse than an insult; it was a crime, punishable by long imprisonment.
They could accuse him of being either an anarchist or a socialist-red,
coming to Barscheit with the intent to kill the grand duke. The fact
that he was ignorant of the laws, or that he, was an alien, would remit
not one particle of his punishment and fine; and weeks would pass ere
the matter could be arranged between the United States and Barscheit.
"Good Lord!" he gasped; "why didn't you tell me?"
"Why didn't you tell me that you carried a cannon in your pocket? Take
Ellis' papers, otherwise you stand pat for a heap of trouble, and I
can't help you. Go straight to Dresden, telegraph me, and I'll forward
your luggage."
"But I came here to study!" Max argued.
"It will be geology in the form of prison walls," said Ellis quietly.
"Don't be foolish, Mr. Scharfenstein; it is not a matter of a man's
courage, but of his common sense. Take the tickets and light out. I
have lived here for three years, and have seen men killed outright for
less than you have done."
"But you don't expect me to leave this place without punching that
beggar's head?"--indignantly. "What do you think I'm made of?"
"You'll never get the chance to punch his head," said I. "We are
wasting valuable time. Those officers have gone for the police. You
have about twenty minutes to make the train. Come, for heaven's sake,
come!"
He finally got it into his head that we knew what we were talking
about. How we got him to the station I do not remember, but somehow we
got him there. He sputtered and fumed and swore, as all brave men will
who feel that they are running away in a cowardly fashion. He wasn't
convinced, but he thanked Ellis for his kindness and hoped that he
wouldn't get into trouble on his (Max's) account.
"Go straight to Dresden; say you've been studying medicine in Barscheit
for three years; refer to me by telegraph if there is any question as
to your new identity," said I. "You're the only man in the world, Max,
that I'd lie for."
He stumbled through the gates, and we saw him open the door of a
carriage just as the train began to pull out. A guard tried to stop
him, but he was not quite quick enough. We watched the train till it
melted away into the blackness beyond the terminus covering; then we, I
and my fellow diners, went soberly into the street. Here was a
howdy-do! Suddenly Ellis let out a sounding laugh, and, scarcely
knowing why, we joined him. It was funny, very funny, for every one
but poor old Max! The American spirit is based on the sense of humor,
and even in tragic moments is irrepressible.