In an hour we had everybody out, and made beds for them by spreading out
hay cocks, and nobody seemed to be hurt so very much. We heard a
locomotive whistle up the road, and some one said the relief train was
coming with doctors and nurses, but the show owner who was with us said:
"Relief doctors, nothing. That is a train-load of lawyers and claim
agents to settle with us. The doctors will not come till to-morrow. Now,
everybody pretend to be hurt awful bad, and strike the sharks for
$10,000 apiece, and come down to $100, if you can't do any better."
It was getting daylight, and the relief train stopped, and the good
Samaritans came wading into the hay marsh, bent on settling with us
cheap. The first lawyer asked the principal owner how many were killed,
'cause they could figure exactly how much they have to pay for a dead
one, but the live ones are the ones that make trouble for a railroad,
'cause they can kick and argue. The boss said nobody was dead, but the
giant, who was mired in out of sight. The giant heard what was said, and
he yelled that he was alive, and wouldn't settle for less than $20,000,
but the claim agent said the giant would be dead in 15 minutes in that
quicksand, so he would let him sink, and pay for him as a dead one.
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