7:15
The red-hot rage of the afternoon and the white-hot rage of the evening had choked the furnace of brain and soul with clinkers so that he was thinking unevenly and disconnectedly . On the surface he was cool and unruffled . He stopped for a moment at the railroad tracks to talk with Stumpy Gans , the one-legged gateman . The little bell above Stumpy 's shanty was ringing its warning , so he strolled leisurely over to the depot platform to see the 7:15 come in from Chicago . When the train pulled out Buzz went on down the street . His mind was darting here and there , planning this revenge , discarding it ; seizing on another , abandoning that . He 'd show 'm .