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diff --git a/old/69404-h/69404-h.htm b/old/69404-h/69404-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index bf3977e..0000000 --- a/old/69404-h/69404-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,15739 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html lang="en"> - <head> - <meta charset="UTF-8"> - <title> - You Can’t Win, by Jack Black—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> - <style> - body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - } - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; - } - - p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; - } - - hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; - } - - hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} - @media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } - - div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} - h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - - .pagenum { - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; - text-indent: 0; - } - - .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - - .center {text-align: center;} - .right {text-align: right;} - - .ph1 {text-align: center; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;} - .ph2 {text-align: center; font-size: xx-large; font-weight: bold;} - - div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;} - div.titlepage p {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 2em;} - - .xxlarge {font-size: 200%;} - - .x-ebookmaker .hide {display: none; visibility: hidden;} - - .figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; - } - - .transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; - padding: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - </style> - </head> - <body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of You can't win, by Jack Black</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: You can't win</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Jack Black</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Contributor: Robert Herrick</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 21, 2022 [eBook #69404]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Joshua Lund (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOU CAN'T WIN ***</div> - - <div class="figcenter hide"><img src="images/cover.jpg" width="450" alt="You Can’t Win"></div> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h1>YOU CAN’T WIN</h1> - </div> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="titlepage"> - - <p><span class="xxlarge">You Can’t Win</span></p> - - <p>BY<br> - JACK BLACK</p> - - <p><span class="smcap">With a foreword by</span><br> - ROBERT HERRICK</p> - - <p>New York<br> - THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br> - 1926<br> - <i>All rights reserved</i></p> - - </div> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <p class="center"> - Copyright 1925,<br> - <span class="smcap">By Jack Black.</span> - </p> - <p class="center"> - Copyright 1926,<br> - <span class="smcap">By The Macmillan Company.</span> - </p> - <hr> - <p class="center"> - Set up and electrotyped.<br> - Published September, 1926. - </p> - <p class="center"> - Reprinted October, 1926.<br> - Reprinted December, 1926. - </p> - <p class="center"> - <span class="smcap"> - Printed in the United States of America<br> - By The Cornwall Press - </span> - </p> - </div> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">ACKNOWLEDGMENT</h2> - </div> - - <p>This book is dedicated to Fremont Older, to - Judge Frank H. Dunne, to the unnamed friend - who sawed me out of the San Francisco jail and - to that dirty, drunken, disreputable, crippled - beggar, “Sticks” Sullivan, who picked the buckshot - out of my back—under the bridge—at Baraboo, - Wisconsin.</p> - - <p class="right smcap">The Author.</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">FOREWORD</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">The</span> revelations of a thief or of a prostitute are - rightfully suspected by the normal citizen of having - been dressed for publicity, either sensational or - sentimental or both. An unstable emotionalism in the - subject, perhaps psychopathic, induces a melodramatic - and unreal treatment of past experience. The tale is - told not as it happened but rather as the subject likes, - in reverie, to think it happened or as he believes the - reader would like to have had it happen. There is - nothing of that sort in Jack Black’s story of his life - as a professional thief. The honesty of the - “confession” is self-evident. With a few lapses into the - conventional, the expected, he displays the rare literary - power of letting the facts speak for themselves, - without any window-dressing, either lachrymose or - hilarious. He has an instinct for realities.</p> - - <p>Indeed it is that mental grip, enabling him to - perceive and apply realities, that obviously brought him - out in the end so that he could break the shackles of - his criminal habits and reinstate himself completely - in accord with society. It was almost purely a mental - feat. At the end, to be sure, he dwells upon the - helpfulness of kind friends, especially of Mr. Older, - of the “square deal” he got from Judge Dunne, and - recognizes fully the impulse of gratitude to a friend - who helped him escape from prison by “cutting out - the hop”—the hardest single bond he had to break. - Those were emotional responses. But if it had not - been for his own good mind which he had slowly - disciplined by reason, that resolve “to go straight” would - have been but another feeble human aspiration for - amendment with which the human hell is paved. The - chief interest I find in Black’s rapid survey of his life - as a thief is this progress of mental awakening and a - corresponding growth of character as a man, without - which all the help of kind and enlightened friends - would have availed naught. It is what Black did for - himself, what he was, that counted most.</p> - - <p>Jack Black was an experimental psychologist: he - discovered slowly and painfully, as most do, the - psychological character of himself and of the world - in which he was placed. Thus he explored the law - of habit and the purely mental quality of self-control - long before he attempted to apply his knowledge to - his own case. Any habit, he maintains, apropos of - the opium habit, can be broken provided the victim - <em>wants</em> sufficiently to change, and he notes the power - of substitution, welcoming even his worries as - distractions, mentally, from the obsession of opium. - His emphasis on the necessity of a subjective desire - for change is an unerring diagnosis of self. He - wanted another kind of life enough to make it come - true. That is the great distinction of Jack Black as - professional lawbreaker and person.</p> - - <p>His case is so common in our restless, mobile - civilization that it may be called typical or standard. - An active, intelligent, likable boy with no stable ties, - he adventured on the open road, almost by accident, - the wide world tempting him on, took what he wanted, - learned the habits and the resources of vagrancy, - of criminality, of vice. But he did not sink to - the dregs per formula. He went to the top of his - society. Stirred by emulation with the only - companions he had—hoboes, thieves, gamblers, yeggs—he - distinguished himself not only by success in individual - exploits but by a superiority of character that would - not break, “snitch,” or play the other fellow’s - game—and by loyalty to his mates.</p> - - <p>Then came as he was emerging from youth the - chance that landed him in a well-run Canadian prison - and fertilized the seed of intellectual interest by - giving him access to a good library. For the first time - he discovered consciously his own mind—the interest - of it—and from this period it is evident that the - habit of reading, of thinking, gained on him until - with relentless logic his mind, thus freed and fed, - convinced him that his boy’s life of defiance and - lawlessness was wrong. After he was convinced, it took - years to free himself from all the implications of - twenty years of crime. But once convinced, with a mind - of that quality, the result was inevitable. Strange irony - that the mental life so essential to Black’s salvation - should have been further fostered by the gift of a - library which Abe Ruef gave to the prison where he and - Black happened to be fellow prisoners. Ruef had taken - the money which he bestowed in this form on his fellow - criminals from the public of San Francisco. Mr. - Fremont Older, as a powerful newspaper editor, was - largely responsible for putting Ruef into the prison - (and later in freeing him!) where Ruef was indirectly - an instrument in freeing Jack Black from his bonds.</p> - - <p>There was an aspect of the Canadian-prison - experience less commendable than its order and its - providing the prisoners with a good library, its wholesome - and on the whole human management so glaringly - in contrast with the American prisons pictured in this - story—and that was flogging. In these days of a - return to medieval punishments for criminals, - advocated by many leading citizens, it is well to realize - how devastating to Black were his two experiences of - brutal force—flogging in Canada, the strait-jacket - in Folsom. They made him—and many others—inhuman - wild beasts ready for murder or suicide. They - left Black not cowed, but mutinous, hating and - hateful. The experience was wholly bad and futile, except - possibly as a test of his own growing self-control. - It does not need Jack Black’s corroborative - evidence to know that brutality does not pay, even - when applied to the dangerous and to the outcast. - In spite of the talk about reviving the whipping post, - we know that the use of physical brutality—floggings, - strait-jackets, and third-degree methods—will - disappear: they are failures in getting results from human - beings. It is only a crude society, as ours still is - largely, that would tolerate what goes on often in - our larger prisons, where the application of “justice” - is left to a class little removed from the criminals - on whom they operate. To maim and mutilate human - beings, to terrify and brutalize them in order to - correct them, is so obviously foolish and wicked that it - hardly needs statement.</p> - - <p>In some cases like Black’s the victim is not broken, - but tempered and hardened in will, in evil. And that - brings me to the most depressing fact in criminology - that the present book illustrates: the criminal is - almost always of an inferior mentality. It is only a - superior mentality such as Black’s that can survive and - ultimately win freedom. Probably Jack Black - would admit that among his wide acquaintance in the - criminal class only a few, a very few, had the mental - quality, the character, to break their chains. The mass - were condemned to remain criminals because of - defective mentality. That suggests inevitably the - confused subject of eugenics and birth control, in society’s - relation to the criminal class, which it so much fears - and detests, but before which it so often seems, as at - the present moment, hopeless, like an ignorant, half - well-meaning parent angry over a troublesome child - whose troublesomeness is in large part the fruit of - the parent’s own defective character. Many of these - aberrant specimens might be deflected from crime by - feeding their minds. Few ever can do it for - themselves as Black almost wholly did it for himself. Does - modern life offer youth sufficient mental stimulus? The - motor car, the movie, bootleg liquor, and sex—these - are the raw stimuli with which youth tries to infuse - some color and movement into the tyrannous drabness - of a standardized industrial life. In drawing his - moral at the end Black forgets, as the middle-aged - are wont to forget, the glamour and the lure of the - “hangout” and the open road, which in his boyhood - seemed to be the only way out of a cheerless drudgery. - There are, of course, many other ways, which Black - discovered later for himself. And that is why I think - his story is so well worth while reading and pondering - upon. Besides it is entertaining, because unvarnished - and unpretentious.</p> - - <p class="right smcap">Robert Herrick.</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span> - <p class="ph2">YOU CAN’T WIN</p> - - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">I am</span> now librarian of the <em>San Francisco Call</em>.</p> - - <p>Do I look like one? I turn my chair so I can look - in the mirror. I don’t see the face of a librarian. - There is no smooth, high, white forehead. I do not - see the calm, placid, composed countenance of the - student. The forehead I see is high enough, but it is - lined with furrows that look like knife scars. There - are two vertical furrows between my eyes that make - me appear to be wearing a continual scowl. My eyes - are wide enough apart and not small, but they are - hard, cold, calculating. They are blue, but of that - shade of blue farthest removed from the violet.</p> - - <p>My nose is not long, not sharp. Nevertheless it is - an inquisitive nose. My mouth is large—one corner - of it is higher than the other and I appear to be - continually sneering. I do not scowl, I do not sneer; yet - there is something in my face that causes a man or - woman to hesitate before asking to be directed to Dr. - Gordon’s church. I can’t remember a time that any - woman, young or old, ever stopped me on the street - and asked to be directed. Once in a great while a - drunk will roll over to where I am standing and ask - how he can get to “Tw’ninth ’n’ Mission.”</p> - - <p>If I gaze into the mirror long enough and think - hard enough I can conjure up another face. The old - one seems to dissolve and in its place I see the face - of a schoolboy—a bright, shining, innocent face. I - see a mop of white hair, a pair of blue eyes, and an - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span>inquisitive nose. I see myself standing on the broad - steps of the Sisters’ Convent School. At the age of - fourteen, after three years’ “board and tuition,” I am - leaving to go home to my father and then to another - school for “big boys.”</p> - - <p>My teacher, a sweet, gentle Sister, a madonna, is - holding my hand. She is crying. I must hurry away - or I will be crying, too. The Mother Superior says - good-by. Her thin lips are pressed so tightly together - that I can barely see the line where they meet. She is - looking into my eyes intently and I am wondering what - she is going to say to me when the crunching of gravel - warns us that the old coach is ready and I must be - off. The Mother takes my teacher gently by the hand. - I see them go through the wide door and disappear - silently down the long, dark hall.</p> - - <p>All the boys in the school, and there were fifty of - them, lined up and gave me a noisy send-off. The old - coachman clucked to his horses, and I was off for the - train—and the world.</p> - - <p>Any reader with a spoonful of imagination can - picture me going home, then to other schools in turn, - then to some sort of an office job; advancement here - and there, always leading a well-ordered, quiet, - studious life, until he finally places me in the respectable - and responsible position of librarian of a metropolitan - newspaper. That’s the way it should have been, but - wasn’t.</p> - - <p>The course I followed from that convent school - to this library desk, if charted on a piece of paper, - would look like the zigzag line that statisticians use - to denote the rise and fall of temperature or rainfall or - fluctuations of business. Every turn I made was a - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span>sharp one, a sudden one. In years I cannot remember - making one easy, graceful, rounded turn.</p> - - <p>It has often been a question with me just how much - the best of it a boy has, who has his mother with him - until his feet are well planted under him; who has a - home and its influences until he gathers some kind - of a working philosophy that helps him to face the - world. There is no substitute for the home and the - mother.</p> - - <p>It may not mean much to the average chap to have - a friend say: “John, I want you to meet my mother.” - To me it means more than I can put on paper. It - seems to explain to me why the man who so proudly - says, “This is my mother,” is so many things that I am - not and never can be. The insurance people have not - yet got to the stage of insuring a man against a - lifetime of failure, but if they ever do, I imagine the chap - who can guarantee them that he will keep his mother - with him until he is twenty will have a shade the best - of it when he pays his premium.</p> - - <p>I am not lugging in the fact that I was left - motherless at the age of ten to alibi myself away from - anything. Nevertheless I think a fellow has the right to - ask himself if things might not have been different. My - mother died before I got very well acquainted with - her—I doubt if any child gives its parents much - thought before the age of twelve or thirteen.</p> - - <p>I probably thought that my mother was a person - put into the world to scrub my face and neck and to be - screamed and kicked at; to put scratchy, flannel rags - around my neck with smelly grease on them when I had - the croup; and to stand by the bed and keep me in it - when I had the measles. I can remember distinctly - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span>how angry I became when she brought me a nice, new - toothbrush and showed me what to do with it.</p> - - <p>This was the greatest indignity of all—the last - straw. I threw the thing away and refused to use - it; told her up and down that I was “no girl” and - wouldn’t have any “girl things.” She did not get angry - and scold; she just went on with her work, smiling. - She may have been pleased with my manly outburst. - I don’t know.</p> - - <p>I don’t remember that I was shocked or pained when - she was buried. I cried, because it was expected of me. - Mother’s relatives, a couple of sisters, whom I never - saw before or since, were crying. I saw tears in my - father’s eyes. So I tried to cry, and did. I know - my father realized what we had lost and his grief was - genuine, but I could not feel it then.</p> - - <p>A few days later father sold our little cottage - home and furnishings and we moved into the only - hotel in the little town. Schools were few and far - between for poor children then. I played around the - hotel all day, running wild, till father came home from - work. He would have his dinner, read a paper, and - then put me to bed. After that he would read a - book for an hour and go to bed himself. We lived - this way for almost a year. Some nights he would - put down his book and look at me strangely for - minutes at a time. I was a problem, undoubtedly, and - he was trying to decide what to do with me. A - ten-year-old boy without a mother is a fit problem for any - father’s mind, and my father was a thoughtful man.</p> - - <p>Looking back at it, it seems to me that I was blown - here and there like a dead leaf whipped about by the - autumn winds till at last it finds lodgment in some - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span>cozy fence corner. When I left school at fourteen I - was as unsophisticated as a boy could be. I knew no - more of the world and its strange way than the gentle, - saintly woman who taught me my prayers in the - convent.</p> - - <p>Before my twentieth birthday, I was in the dock of - a criminal court, on trial for burglary. I was acquitted, - but that is another story. In six years I had deserted - my father and home, gone “on the road.” I had - become a snapper-up of small things, a tapper of tills, - a street-door sneak thief, a prowler of cheap lodging - houses, and at last a promising burglar in a small way.</p> - - <p>At twenty-five I was an expert house burglar, a - nighttime prowler, carefully choosing only the best - homes—homes of the wealthy, careless, insured people. - I “made” them in the small hours of the night, always - under arms.</p> - - <p>At thirty I was a respected member of the “yegg” - brotherhood, a thief of which little is known. He is - silent, secretive, wary; forever traveling, always a - night “worker.” He shuns the bright lights, seldom - straying far from his kind, never coming to the - surface. Circulating through space with his always-ready - automatic, the yegg rules the underworld of criminals. - At forty I found myself a solitary, capable - journeyman highwayman; an escaped convict, a fugitive, with - a background of twenty-five years in the underworld.</p> - - <p>A bleak background! Crowded with robberies, - burglaries, and thefts too numerous to recall. All - manner of crimes against property. Arrests, trials, - acquittals, convictions, escapes. Penitentiaries! I - see in the background four of them. County jails, - workhouses, city prisons, Mounted Police barracks, - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span>dungeons, solitary confinement, bread and water, - hanging up, brutal floggings, and the murderous - straitjacket.</p> - - <p>I see hop joints, wine dumps, thieves’ resorts, and - beggars’ hangouts.</p> - - <p>Crime followed by swift retribution in one form or - another.</p> - - <p>I had very few glasses of wine as I traveled this - route. I rarely saw a woman smile and seldom heard - a song.</p> - - <p>In those twenty-five years I took all these things, and - I am going to write about them.</p> - - <p>And I am going to write about them as I took them - —with a smile.</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">I was</span> a problem to my father, running loose about - the hotel while he was at work, and finally he took me - to a Catholic school one hundred miles away. On that - short trip my father and I got to be good friends, and - I think I was closer to him that day than on any other - of our lives. Father left that evening and told me to - be good, mind the Sisters, and study hard.</p> - - <p>I fell into my groove in the school with other boys - of my age. Our days were passed pleasantly with our - small studies, many prayers, and daily attendance at - mass. The food was coarse but wholesome.</p> - - <p>I never went home at vacation time. I spent those - days in exploring near-by orchards, gardens, and fields, - picking up fruit, vegetables, and berries, and other - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span>things that help to take the edge off a small boy’s - appetite.</p> - - <p>I spent much time about the barns and stables with - Thomas, the coachman. I was an expert listener, a - rare talent, inherited from my father, no doubt. - Thomas was a ready talker. This is a combination - that never fails to make firm and lasting friendships, - and we became friends. He was a veteran of our - Civil War, had been on the losing side, and came out - of it full of hatred, lead, and rheumatism. His heroes - were not Lee or Stonewall Jackson, but Quantrell, the - guerrilla, Jesse and Frank James, Cole and Bob - Younger.</p> - - <p>I never tired of listening to his war stories, and - often found myself piecing them together in the - schoolroom when I should have been active with my studies.</p> - - <p>I believe I was the only boy at the school who never - went away on holidays and vacations to visit parents - or relatives. The Sister Superior, probably realizing - that my life was a bit too drab, often gave me the - privilege of going to the village for mail and papers. - This was a rare treat, and much sought by all the boys. - It meant a long walk, a stroll down the village street, - a chance to see people, maybe to buy a fat sandwich, a - bag of peanuts, or a bottle of pop—no small things - in a boy’s life. It also meant authority and - responsibility, good things for a boy. I looked forward to - these journeys. I always had a little small silver, for - spending, from my father.</p> - - <p>The time passed quickly and pleasantly enough. - I learned many prayers, practiced for singing in the - church choir, and became an altar boy, serving the - priest at mass. I liked learning the prayers and the - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span>Latin responses to the priest, but did not make much - headway with my other studies.</p> - - <p>I liked the dear, simple old priest to whom I made - my first confession, and at times thought I would like - some day to be a priest myself. Between my - admiration for old Thomas, the coachman, with his stormy - stories of the war, and my love for the quiet old priest, - my mind was always pulling me this way and that—whether - I should become a priest, or a soldier like - Tommy, limping around with his short leg and his - rheumatism.</p> - - <p>One day when I was waiting for the mail I heard - a nice old lady ask the postmaster whose boy I was.</p> - - <p>He said, “That’s one of the boys from the convent. - You can tell them a block away. They are all perfect - little gentlemen. They say ‘Please’ and ‘Thank you.’ - I do not know how the Sisters do it, but they can surely - bring boys up. I wish I could do it with mine.”</p> - - <p>When I returned with the mail I told the Superior - what I heard the postmaster say about her and her - boys. She seemed very much pleased, smiled, and - said: “Boys are good when they are taught to say their - prayers and to fear God.” Shortly after, I was - appointed “mailman.” I went to the village every day - after school. When the weather was fine I walked; - if it was bad, I rode in or on the coach with Tommy. - This was the first and only “appointment” of my life. - I did not think it over then, but I know now I was not - given it because I said “please” or my prayers—I got - it because I had told the Superior the nice things the - postmaster said. “Please” is a good word in its place; - but it does not get one appointed to anything. It has - a proper place in a small boy’s vocabulary. And it - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span>is also much used by a certain class of prisoners and - supplicants who are always “pleasing” somebody and - are never pleasant to anybody.</p> - - <p>Your capable beggar on the street does not say - “please.” He rips off his spiel in such exact and precise - language that he gets your dime without it. You so - admire his “art” that you do not miss the “please.” - His is an art. He omits the “please” because he knows - you do not use it except when you want the mustard.</p> - - <p>Looking back, it seems to me that our life in the - convent was not properly balanced. We had none of - the rough, boisterous times so dear to the small boy, - no swimming, baseball, football. We were a little too - cloistered, too quiet, too subdued. There was no - wrestling, no boxing, no running and jumping and - squabbling and shuffling and shouldering about. Of - course I learned all those later. But I learned them - quickly, too quickly—all in a bunch. That put me out - of balance again. Those exercises should have been - mixed in with my studies and prayers.</p> - - <p>One stormy day I came out of the post office and as - usual handed up the paper to Tommy, whose habit it - was to glance at the headlines and return it to me. - This day, however, he found something that interested - him. He put the horses’ lines between his legs and - crossed his knees on them. I sat beside him on the - box and shivered in the wind. He read on and on, - column after column, then turned to an inner page, - fighting the paper in the wind.</p> - - <p>At last, and it seemed an hour, he folded it up - carefully and returned it to me. “Good news to-day, - Tommy?” “No, boy, no good news. Bad news, - awful news, terrible news.” He spoke in an awed - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span>voice, a voice that carried reverence. “Terrible news - —Jesse James has been murdered, murdered in cold - blood and by a traitor.”</p> - - <p>He fell silent and spoke to me no more that day. - Later he told me many things about Jesse James. He - worshiped him, and like many other good people of - Missouri firmly believed that neither of the James - boys ever fired a shot except in defense of their rights.</p> - - <p>I delivered the mail and hastened to tell the other - boys that Jesse James was dead, “murdered.” Many - of the older boys knew all about him—he was their - hero, too—and the things they told me made me decide - to get the paper and read his story myself. The next - day, strangely enough, I passed the Superior’s office - when she was out to lunch. The paper was folded - neatly, lying on some older papers on the corner of - her neat desk. I walked in and took it. I put it away - carefully, but many days passed before I got to the - reading of it. I was so occupied with my duties as - altar boy, and so busy with preparing for my first - communion and learning new prayers, that the James - boys and all other worldly things had no place in my - mind.</p> - - <p>Those were intense days. I lived in another world.</p> - - <p>At last I found time to read my paper. On my way - for the mail I slowly dug out the story of Jesse James’ - life and death, word by word. How I studied the - picture of this bearded and be-pistoled hero! And the - sketches of his shooting and the house in which it was - done. Then came the story of his bereaved mother. - How my boyish sympathy went out to her, as she wept - for her loss and told the story of the lifelong - persecution of her boys, Jesse and Frank, and how she feared - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span>that the hunted fugitive, Frank James, would also be - dealt with in the same traitorous fashion. How I - loathed the traitor, Bob Ford, one of the James boys - gang, who shot Jesse when his back was turned, for a - reward! How I rejoiced to read that Ford was almost - lynched by friends and admirers of Jesse, and had to - be locked in the strongest jail in the state to protect - him from a mobbing. I finished the story entirely - and wholly in sympathy with the James boys, and all - other hunted, outlawed, and outraged men.</p> - - <p>When I had done with the paper I passed it along - to the other boys, who read it and handed it about till - it was finally captured by the Superior. It was limp - and ragged from usage. The Superior promptly - traced it back to me. When asked where I got it, I - told her I had taken it from her desk. I was lectured - severely on the wrong of taking things without asking - for them. I told her I did not ask for it because I was - afraid she might refuse me. She said nothing, and did - not offer to give me any, from which I understood - that we were not to have papers. I was also relieved - of my job as mailman. I was no longer to be trusted.</p> - - <p>My teacher heard of my disgrace. She took me - into her study, and we talked the thing over. The loss - of my job was nothing; I would be going home soon, - anyway. I must not feel bad about the lecture, I had - done nothing wrong. I would have returned the - paper, only the other boys wanted to read it. I - discovered that she looked at it the same way I did.</p> - - <p>She asked me if I wanted more papers. I was on - fire for papers and told her so. She promised to get - me one every day, and did. When I read it I returned - it to her.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span>The James boys’ story ran on for days and I - followed it word for word, sympathizing with the hunted - fugitive, Frank, wishing I were old enough and strong - enough to find him and help him escape his pursuers - and avenge his brother’s death.</p> - - <p>When that story was over I turned to other crime - stories and read nothing else in the papers. Burglaries, - robberies, murders—I devoured them all, always in - sympathy with the adventurous and chance-taking - criminals. I reconstructed their crimes in my boyish - mind and often pictured myself taking part in them. - I neglected my studies and prayers to rove about in - fancy with such heroes as Jimmy Hope, Max Shinburn, - and “Piano Charlie,” famous “gopher men,” who - tunneled under banks like gophers and carried away their - plunder after months of dangerous endeavor.</p> - - <p>Looking back now I can plainly see the influence the - James boys and similar characters had in turning my - thoughts to adventure and later to crime.</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">At</span> last the day came for me to go home, for I had - passed my fourteenth birthday and was too old to stay - at the Sisters’ School.</p> - - <p>I wanted to kiss my favorite teacher good-by, but - didn’t quite dare do it. So I rode down to the station - with Tommy, who bought me a fifty-cent knife, out of - his salary, only twelve dollars a month, and went away - to join my father.</p> - - <p>Father took me back to the same hotel, to the same - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span>room. He had occupied it during the three years I - had been away, and the only change was that he put - a small bed in it for me. Everything was new and - strange to me. Men coming and going all day, eating - and drinking. Everything was noise and bustle, and - it took me a few days to get used to this new life.</p> - - <p>I found lots of papers lying around—some cheap - novels, Police Gazettes, etc.—and I read them all, - everything I could get hold of. I saw my father only - at night, and occasionally we would take a walk then - for an hour.</p> - - <p>One evening as we were returning from our walk, - we came upon a man whose team of horses was stalled - in a mud hole. He was beating the horses, and cursing - them with the most fearful oaths. I stopped still in - my tracks and began praying for him. Father looked - back, saw me standing still, and said: “What are you - doing, John, listening to that mule skinner swear?”</p> - - <p>I finished my prayer and caught up with him.</p> - - <p>“You will learn to swear soon enough, John, without - stopping to listen to these teamsters,” he said a little - severely.</p> - - <p>In self-defense I told him I was not listening to - the man, but praying for him. “The Sisters taught us - to do that,” I said. “They taught us to pray for all - sinners.”</p> - - <p>Father wore a long beard, the custom of his day. - When he was very thoughtful or vexed with some - problem, he had a habit of twisting up the end of his - beard into a pigtail. He would then put the pigtail - between his teeth and chew on it.</p> - - <p>After I explained what I had been doing, he looked - at me strangely, twisted up his beard, put the end - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span>in his mouth, and began chewing. He took my hand, - something he never did before, and we walked home - in silence. He went straight upstairs, and I found - some fresh papers, which I read downstairs. When - I went up to go to bed he was sitting in his chair, - staring at the wall and still chewing his beard. My - coming aroused him. He said, “Good night, John,” - and we went to bed.</p> - - <p>The next evening he came in as usual. He read his - paper and I read whatever came to my hand. When - we went upstairs, he said: “John, the Sisters taught - you many prayers, did they?” “Yes, sir, all the - prayers. I know them all,” I said proudly.</p> - - <p>“How about reading?” he asked. I read him a - piece from a newspaper fairly well.</p> - - <p>“And writing, John? Yes, I know you learned to - write and spell. Your letters to me were very good. - How’s your arithmetic, John? How many are eight - times nine, John?”</p> - - <p>I was stuck. I hesitated and blushed. He saw my - confusion and gave me an easier one. “Seven times - six, John?”</p> - - <p>I was stuck again and got more confused. “Start at - the beginning, John, maybe you can get it that way.”</p> - - <p>I started at seven times one, got as far as seven - times four, and fell down. This was torture. I think - he saw it, too, for he said, “Oh, well, John, that will - come to you later. Don’t worry about it; just keep on - trying.”</p> - - <p>He was a sharp at mathematics, and I think my - failure to learn multiplication hurt him more than if - he had caught me spelling bird with a “u,” or sugar - with two “gs.” After a month of idleness it was - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span>decided that I should go to the district school, which had - been built in our town while I was at the Sisters’. I got - a new set of books and started bravely off.</p> - - <p>We had a woman teacher, very strict, but fair to us - all. I learned rapidly everything but arithmetic, which - did not seem to agree with me, nor does it yet, for that - matter. I also learned to play ball, football, marbles, - and, I must admit, hooky, the most fascinating of all - small-boy games. These new games, and so many - other interesting new things, soon crowded the prayers - into the background of my mind, but not entirely out - of it. I said them no more at night and morning, nor - any other time. But I still remember them, and I - believe now, after forty prayerless years, I could muster - a passable prayer if the occasion required it and there - were not so many people about who could do it so much - better.</p> - - <p>After school, having no chores to do, I loitered - around the hotel office. One day I found a dime novel - entitled, “The James Boys.” I seized upon it and - devoured it. After that I was always on the lookout - for dime novels. I found a place where they were sold. - I would buy one and trade with some other boy when - it was read. If I could not trade it, I took it back - to the store and the woman gave me a five-cent one - for it. The nickel one was just as thrilling, but - shorter. I read them all. “Old Sleuth,” “Cap Collier,” - “Frank Reade,” “Kit Carson.” Father saw me with - them, but never bothered me. One day he brought - me one of Fenimore Cooper’s Leatherstocking tales. - I read it and was cured of the five- and ten-cent novels.</p> - - <p>Between going to school and to the depot in the - evening to see the train come in, and hanging around - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span>the hotel bar watching the town’s celebrated ones, - especially the “bad men” who had killed or shot - somebody somewhere some time, I put in fairly busy days. - The time flew.</p> - - <p>I got to be quite looked up to by the other boys of - my age. I “lived at the hotel,” had “nobody to boss - me around,” didn’t have to “run errands and chop - kindling and go after the groceries and carry milk.” - When a new boy showed up, I was the one to show him - around. I remember distinctly, now, that in less than - a year after I left the Sisters, I was going down the - street with a new boy when we came upon one of the - town drunkards and bad men. I pointed him out with - pride. “See that old fellow? That’s old Beverly - Shannon. He’s been out to Leadville. He killed a - man out there and nearly got hung. You ought to - hear him swear when he gets drunk and falls down and - nobody will help him up.”</p> - - <p>There was admiration in my voice. Our town was - full of bad men. All had been in the war on one side - or the other. Everybody had a pistol or two, and a - shotgun or a rifle. Everybody knew how to use them. - No small boy’s outfit was complete without a pistol. - Usually it was a rusty old “horse pistol,” a - cap-and-ball affair, some old relic of the Civil War. By a great - stroke of fortune I got two of them. I was helping - an old lady to move some things out of her cellar when - we ran across them in a trunk.</p> - - <p>“Lord, Lord,” she said, “are those awful things - here yet? I thought they had been thrown away - years ago. Johnnie, take them out and bury them - somewhere. Throw them away so I will never see - them again.”</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span>These two old pistols made me feel important, - established. I began to look about me. It was time - I began to be somebody. My latest hero was the - man that kept the bar in the hotel. He owned the - building, leased the hotel, and ran the bar himself. - He was a fat man, and he wore a fancy striped vest - with a heavy gold watch chain across it and a - twenty-dollar gold piece dangled from the chain for a charm. - He had been out to California. It was the only - twenty-dollar piece in the town. He was a small politician, - the town fixer. When anybody got into any trouble - and had to go before the justice of the peace, he went - down to the hotel and saw “Cy” Near. Cy would - say, “Leave it to me, that’s all, leave it to me.” When - it was all over the fellow would come down to “Cy’s” - and order drinks for everybody in sight, several times. - Then he would say, “What do I owe you, Cy?”</p> - - <p>“Owe me? Owe me for what?”</p> - - <p>“Why, you know, Cy, for fixing up that little - trouble.”</p> - - <p>“Oh, that’s what you mean. Say, you don’t owe - me a thin dime, not a greasy nickel.” Cy would wave - a fat arm in the air. “I don’t take money for helping - my friends. I sell licker, good licker; that’s my - business.”</p> - - <p>The chap would buy a few more rounds of drinks, - thank Cy again, and start for the door. Cy would - shout, “Hey, George, I forgot to tell you. I’m rafflin’ - off a hoss an’ buggy and you’d better take a half dozen - tickets. You stand to win a good rig.”</p> - - <p>Around election time Cy would round up all the - fellows he could, remind them that he had befriended - them, and say, “What do we care who’s President of - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span>the United States? What we want is a decent justice - of the peace and town marshal.”</p> - - <p>I decided to pattern my life after Cy’s. He was a - popular, successful man. I began swinging my arms - about, talking in a loud, hoarse voice, wearing my hat - on the back of my head. Cy smoked big cigars. I - tried one, and gave up the notion of smoking, at least - for a while.</p> - - <p>It was not long till my fancy for the saloon keeper - changed. One evening when the train came in a - single traveler got off. He was a tall, lean man, who - walked like a soldier, erect and with a confident step. - He had a short, stubby, gray mustache. He wore a - gray suit, a gray hat, and held a pair of gloves in his - hand. He walked quickly toward the front of the - train and waited by the baggage car till a trunk was - tossed out. An express man near by was told to take - the trunk over to the hotel.</p> - - <p>I followed the gray man to the hotel. Presently - the trunk was left in front and I went to inspect it. It - was a leather trunk, with brass fittings, plastered over - with stickers from many hotels and steamship lines. - It was scratched and battered and travel-stained. The - thing fascinated me. I stood around and felt it, - read the stickers, some of them from foreign parts of - the world, and wondered what kind of man he could be - that possessed such a wonderful trunk.</p> - - <p>I was restless and disturbed when the porter took - it upstairs out of my sight. It had roused strange - thoughts and longings in my mind that I did not - understand then. I know now that it suggested travel, - adventure by land and sea—the world.</p> - - <p>I now pulled my hat down from the back of my - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span>head and wore it properly. I straightened up, kept - my hands out of my pockets, walked with a quick step, - and assumed a confident, positive manner. I even - began to think about a mustache, bristly, cut down like - the gray man’s. I must have a gray suit, gray hat, - gloves, and a leather trunk. A big problem for a boy - with no income.</p> - - <p>I determined to earn some money and looked about - for after-school work. After my father, I thought the - saloon man, Cy, was the wisest man in our town. For - some reason which I never could figure out, I did not - submit the matter to my father, but went to the saloon - man. Maybe it was because he was easier to talk to. - We went over the situation carefully. There was no - job in sight that either of us could think of. At last - Cy said, “Well, if you’re so crazy about a job, I’ll - make one for you.”</p> - - <p>Cy was a bachelor, and lived in a single room in the - hotel. He opened and closed his bar, did all the work, - was always drinking, but no one ever saw him drunk.</p> - - <p>“You can come in here in the morning before school - and clean the place up. Sweeping out ain’t no man’s - job, anyway, and I’m tired of it. You can wash up - the glasses and dust up around the bar. In the - afternoon when you come home from school, you can be - around in case there’s any errands. At night you can - look after the pool table, collect for the games, and - see that they don’t steal the balls. You can serve the - drinks when there’s a card game, and bring a new - deck when some sore loser tears the old one up.”</p> - - <p>I was so grateful to Cy that I gave him my very - best “thank you.” Here was a chance to get on in - life, to have my own money, and be independent and - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span>mix around with men—to learn something of the - world. I was so taken with this notion that I hunted - up the broom, which was worn down to the strings, - and began sweeping out the barroom. There were no - customers in the place. Cy stood by, his hat on one - side of his head, a big cigar in the opposite side of his - mouth, hands in pockets, and eyed me thoughtfully. - When I had the place about half swept out, Cy came - over and took the broom out of my hands. He turned - it about, examined it carefully. “Johnnie, I think - you’re on the square with me, and I’m going to be on - the up and up with you. You go to the store and get - yourself a new broom.”</p> - - <p>I did that, and swept the place all over again. - Having started to work without my father’s permission I - decided to say nothing till I got well settled in my job. - I had a feeling that he might veto the whole thing if - I told him at the start, but if I waited a while and had - a few dollars saved up he might let me continue.</p> - - <p>Father knew Cy very well. On rare occasions he - went into the bar and had a drink and a talk with him.</p> - - <p>I worked faithfully, early and late. At the end of - the week, in the afternoon when there was no customer - about, Cy mysteriously beckoned me into his “office,” - a small closet of a room at one end of the bar. It was - simply furnished—a table, a chair, a large spittoon, - one picture on the wall opposite the desk. A picture - of the mighty John L. Sullivan in fighting pose. Cy - seated himself at the table, put on a pair of glasses, - and drew out a small notebook. He looked carefully - about the room. Seeing the door of his office open, he - told me to close it.</p> - - <p>To me Cy had always been much of a mystery. He - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span>had been “out West”—to Leadville, Deadwood, and - San Francisco. He owned the latest pattern of - repeating rifle and a couple of “forty-fives.” He played - poker. I thought I was now to be initiated into some - of the secret activities of his life. Maybe he would - ask me to do something dangerous. Well, whatever - it was, I would do it. He wrote something in the - notebook, then took three silver dollars out of his - pocket and put them in my hand, carefully, without - clinking them.</p> - - <p>“Johnnie, this is pay day.”</p> - - <p>I went back to work happy. Pay day, three dollars - of my own money. I would have a gray suit, gray hat, - gloves, and a leather trunk in no time. I would soon - be a tall, handsome, distinguished-looking gentleman, - on Cy’s money. I jingled my three dollars loudly and - could hardly wait for my father to come home so I - could tell him about my working and ask him to mind - my money for me.</p> - - <p>The possession of three dollars changed me at once. - I became independent, confident, secure. When father - came in I went to him without a single misgiving, - feeling sure he would approve. I had my money in my - hand and my spirit was high. I told him I had been - working for Mr. Near all week; that I had three - dollars in wages and wanted him to take care of them - for me. He took the money and put it in his pocket, - saying: “All right. Let me know when you want it.”</p> - - <p>“And you don’t mind my working for Cy?”</p> - - <p>“No. I don’t mind. Cy told me all about it. - You will have to learn to work some time. And you - will have to learn lots of other things. So you may - as well start at Cy’s.”</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span>He turned to his paper, and I thought the thing was - settled, but as I went out of the room I saw him - twisting up the end of his long beard.</p> - - <p>The school work was no trouble to me. I put in a - year, and vacation time came along almost before I - knew it. I was saving all the money I earned as - assistant to Cy, and was looking forward to earning - more during vacation. I brought home to my father a - report from the school which seemed to show that - I had made good progress. He glanced at the card - and threw it to one side.</p> - - <p>“I suppose you have the multiplication table this - time, John?”</p> - - <p>“Oh, yes, I learned it at last.”</p> - - <p>“How many are eight times nine, John?”</p> - - <p>“Seventy-two, sir.”</p> - - <p>“Good. Seven times six?”</p> - - <p>“Forty-two, sir.”</p> - - <p>“Correct, John.”</p> - - <p>He did not seem to be much interested in my correct - and prompt answers; kept on looking at his paper. - Finally he looked at me and said: “And eight times - thirteen, John?”</p> - - <p>I was stuck again. This one froze me stiff. I got - mad, red in the face. I took pencil and paper out of - my pockets, figured it out, and give him the result. It - seemed that he was taking advantage of me. Nobody - at school had ever asked me that question. I felt - wronged. I thought of my money and my two big - horse pistols. If I was to be treated in this way I - would take my money and pistols and go away where - I could get a square deal. And if I did not get a - square deal, I’d take it.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span>Father looked at the paper I gave him. “Why, you - have it right, John. That’s good, very good.” He - was stroking his beard thoughtfully, and I could not - tell whether he was smiling or making a face.</p> - - <p>Vacation was almost over. I needed new books for - the coming season and spoke to father about them one - night.</p> - - <p>“Never mind them now. We will see about them - later. We are going away, going to Kansas City. I - have been promoted after all these years.”</p> - - <p>“But I will lose my job,” I demurred.</p> - - <p>“I’ll get you another job. Don’t worry. Do you - want a regular job, working all day, or would you - like to go to school some more?”</p> - - <p>I decided to have an all-day job, and let the school - go.</p> - - <p>“All right,” he said, “we’ll see about it.”</p> - - <p>My father made no fuss about leaving the small - town where he had spent ten years of his life. He had - no close friends or cronies. After my mother died, he - seldom spoke to any one but me, and I think he was - glad to go away. He was a cold, hard, silent - Scotch-Irishman. He took no part in social doings, never - went to church, belonged to no clubs; nor was he - enough interested in politics to become a citizen and - exercise the high privilege of voting on election day.</p> - - <p>My good-bys did not take much time. Cy was sorry - to have me go. He laboriously wrote me a fine letter - of recommendation which he gave me along with a - large, worn silver watch, that wound with a key. It - weighed almost a pound, and I was proportionately - proud of it. My boy friends envied me in going away - to a big city and impressed upon me the necessity for - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span>taking my pistols with me. Unnecessary advice; I had - no intention of leaving them behind.</p> - - <p>And last of all I hunted up old Beverly Shannon, the - bad man. He was a hooknosed old man with hard - eyes and a long chin whisker dripping tobacco juice. - He had worn the Northern blue, and drew a small - pension for a “bad leg.” Times when he was half - drunk, limping around town in search of more drinks, - some one would say: “Look out, ‘Bev.’ You’re limpin’ - on the wrong leg.” This always brought a string of - eloquent curses from him, and a warning that they - had “better be keerful. I hain’t stopped killin’ jest - ’cause Abe Lincoln says the war’s over.”</p> - - <p>In those days all roads led to the harness shop, and - there “old Bev” was always to be found when - sober, outside the shop on a bench under a tree. There - he met all the droughty farmers and entertained them - with war stories and tales of his wanderings “out - West.” He was always invited to drink with them. - His pension kept him in food. His life held no serious - problem.</p> - - <p>I found him on his bench, sober and sorry for it. - He passed the time of day with me, and I told him I - was going away and had come to say good-by.</p> - - <p>“Goin’ to the city, huh? Well, don’t let ’em rub - it into you. You ain’t a very strong boy.” He was a - foxy old man. He leered at me out of his cunning - eyes. “Have you got any shootin’ irons?” Long - John Silver, the pirate, could not have done any better - in the way of complimenting a boy. I was fairly - hooked. I assured him that I was well heeled, having - two pistols.</p> - - <p>“That’s good. You’ll git along all right. Now you - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span>run along. I’ve got to git me a farmer. I ain’t had - my whisky yet.”</p> - - <p>I hastily dug up enough silver out of my small - pocket money for a couple of drinks, and gave it to - him. As I went away I thought he looked like an old - spider watching his web for a fly.</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">In</span> his new position father was forced to travel - much, often leaving me to my own devices for weeks - and sometimes months. I was put up at a small - boarding house kept by a widow, who had two children. She - was over-worked, sickly, and cranky. She had half a - dozen boarders. Before he left, father gave me the - money I had saved up, and told me to look about for - a job.</p> - - <p>There was nobody at the hotel that interested me. - The widow was always whining and I kept away from - her. Her children were too small for company, and - I saw nothing of the other boarders except at - mealtimes when they ate much and talked little.</p> - - <p>The widow gave me a trunkful of books she had - taken for a board bill. Among them I found a - battered old volume of Dumas’ “The Count of Monte - Cristo,” on which I put in many nights. This sharpened - my appetite for reading, and I went around secondhand - bookstores, and got hold of the D’Artagnan tales and - devoured them. Then “Les Misérables,” and on to - the master, Dickens. The books so fired me with the - desire for travel, adventure, romance, that I was - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span>miserable most of the time. As my money dwindled I - resolved to find a job. I’d ask the landlady for advice.</p> - - <p>I found her out in front, scrubbing the steps, red - in the face and vicious looking. I told her I was - thinking of going to work.</p> - - <p>“Well, it’s about time you thought of that,” she - snapped, “layin’ around here readin’ and eatin’ up your - father’s money. You can get a job just like I did when - my husband run off and left me with two brats on my - hands. I just started out and asked for it at every - place I come to till I got it, that’s all. And you can - do it, too, if you got the gizzard.”</p> - - <p>I left her and started my search. If there was a - job in the city I determined to get it. I went through - block after block, store after store, hour after hour. - I got mostly “Noes” but some answered pleasantly, - taking my name and address. I kept going until one - morning I stopped in front of a cigar store—a - dead-looking place, no customers. A man was reading a - paper spread out on the counter. I went in and put my - question to him. When he stood up I saw he was - very tall and very thin. He looked sick. I had never - seen an eye like his. It attracted me strangely. I - could not have described it then, but I can now. It - was a larcenous eye. He was very nice, asking many - questions. How old was I? Did I ever work before? - Where? I handed him Cy’s letter. He read it and - asked me more questions. I have never answered so - many questions since, except in a police station. At - last he quit, and snapping himself together like a man - coming out of a trance, he rapped his knuckles on the - counter.</p> - - <p>“I’ll tell you what I’ll do with you, kid. You come - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span>down here at nine o’clock every morning, open this - joint up, and stay here till one o’clock. Then I come - on and you go off till six in the evening. At six you - come on and stay till ten, and call it a day. You can - go to work right now. The sooner the better. In a - week you will know the prices of the different things - as well as I do, and I can leave you by yourself. Your - wages will be three dollars a week and all the cigars - you can smoke.”</p> - - <p>“But I do not smoke.”</p> - - <p>“Well, that’s your bad luck, kid, not mine. What - do you say? Want to chance the job?”</p> - - <p>I got right in behind the counter and he showed - me the different cigars, cigarettes, and tobaccos, and - told me their prices. In a week I knew all about the - “store” and had learned to serve the few customers - that came in, and to make change properly. I further - learned that the store was but a “front” or blind for a - poker game and dice games in the back room, and that - I was a part of the “front.” My business was to sweep - the place out in the morning, stand behind the counter - in case any one wanted a cigar, and to keep an eye out - for “new coppers on the beat” in the evening. The - job was interesting. I soon came to know the poker - players, crap shooters, and dice sharks who brought - their victims into the back room to “clean” them. I - often spent my afternoons in the back room watching - the games and learning the life.</p> - - <p>When there was no game, the sharks sat around - practicing their tricks and bewailing their bad luck. - Sometimes a poker player would show me how to - “shuffle up a hand,” or cut the cards at a given place - or “go out” with a hand. The dice shakers and crap - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span>shooters showed me their favorite “shots.” I was an - apt scholar, absorbing everything like a young sponge. - “Tex,” my boss (if he had any other name I never - heard it), admonished me never to gamble. “Lay - away from it, kid; it’s a tough racket. Look at me - and my gatherings of forty years. I ain’t got a white - quarter to my name; if it was rainin’ soup I couldn’t - buy myself a tin spoon, and I’ve got a string of debts - longer than a widow’s clothesline.”</p> - - <p>Next door to the cigar store there was a small milk - depot kept by a man and his wife. I used to go in - every day for a glass of milk, and got acquainted with - them. He delivered milk around his routes and the - wife minded the shop. He was forever complaining - about not being able to collect his money from “them - women.” “Them women” were women who kept - “parlor houses” in the Tenderloin district a few blocks - from his milk store. They were good pay, but he - could not get away from his work at the right hour to - find them.</p> - - <p>One day he told me he would pay me well if I would - take the bills and go to the places and stay till I got - the money. Here was a chance to earn more money, - and I grabbed it. I went in and asked Tex, my boss, - when would be the best time to call at those places to - collect the milk bills.</p> - - <p>If Tex had not gathered much of worldly goods in - his forty years, he had at least learned something of - the habits of “them women.” “I’ll tell you,” he said. - “If you go in the morning you’ll find them asleep; in - the afternoon they are out riding or shopping; and - at night they will be either too busy or too drunk. - Take my advice and go about five o’clock in the - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span>evening and you will catch them at dinner, or breakfast, or - whatever they call it.”</p> - - <p>I followed Tex’s advice that evening and collected - three bills out of five. The milkman was pleased with - my enterprise and gave me a dollar. Thereafter I - collected his bills in the Tenderloin. I visited certain - places weekly and was paid promptly. The women I - met were nice to me, and I saw nothing of the other - side of their lives. I worked faithfully at my two - jobs, saved my money, and began looking in the store - windows for my gray suit and gray hat. My work - kept me so busy that I did not read much. Thoughts - of travel and adventure were in the back of my mind, - but that could wait. I was young; I must have money - first. My two old, rusty pistols, almost forgotten now, - lay neglected in the bottom of my little valise.</p> - - <p>Tex had a “run of luck” and raised me to four - dollars a week. I collected more bills for the milkman. - Some of them he called “bad bills.” I kept after them - persistently and nearly always got the money. The - more hopeless the bill, the greater my commission was. - I enjoyed going after them. The Tenderloin women - were sure pay; and poor families were good, always - had the money ready. I called on a tough saloon man, - in a dingy little dive, about ten times to collect a - two-dollar bill.</p> - - <p>One day when I called he was serving several men - at his bar, and when he saw me he said: “No use - comin’ in here with that bill, kid. I ain’t goin’ to pay - it. If your boss comes up here I’ll bust him in the - nose. His milk is no good and he’s no good.”</p> - - <p>“Mister,” I said, “I know he is no good, but I have - to work and want to keep my job. If you knew just - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span>how hard my boss is you would feel sorry for me - instead of being angry. He is so hard and no good that - he told me if I did not collect your bill of two dollars - to-day I need not come to work to-morrow, and that’s - why I’m here.”</p> - - <p>The customers looked at me. I stood my ground.</p> - - <p>“Hell,” said the man, “I didn’t think he was that - bad. Here, take the lousy money.”</p> - - <p>I hurried back to the milkman. “Here’s Mr. - Finucane’s two dollars.”</p> - - <p>“How on earth did you ever collect it?”</p> - - <p>“Oh, he just got tired and paid me, that’s all.”</p> - - <p>“Well, I’ll make you a present of them,” said he - handing me the money. “You certainly earned them.”</p> - - <p>The following week I called at Madam Kate - Singleton’s with my bill. The colored maid who opened the - door showed me a seat in the hall and told me to wait. - The madam was dressing. I sat there a few minutes - and there was a ring at the door. The maid opened - it and an excited little man brushed in, followed by - two big men who were not a bit excited. As the door - was closing I got a glimpse of a policeman in uniform - on the steps.</p> - - <p>One of the two men spoke to the maid who went - upstairs, and in a minute the madam came down. She - waved the men into a room off the hall and closed the - door. I listened, but they talked too low for me to - hear what they were saying. Presently the madam - opened the door and called out: “Oh, girls, come - downstairs every one of you.” Half a dozen girls - appeared as if by magic. They were all brought into - the room and the door closed again.</p> - - <p>Nobody paid any attention to me. Now I heard - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span>loud voices in the room, but so many were talking at - once that I could make nothing of it. Then one of - the big men came out, went to the front door, opened - it, and said to the policeman: “Send Mike around to - the back; tell him to let nobody out. I’ll phone for - the wagon. We’ll have to take them all to the station. - They won’t talk.”</p> - - <p>He disappeared into the room. I got up and opened - the front door.</p> - - <p>“Where are you goin’?” said the policeman.</p> - - <p>“I’m going out, if you please.”</p> - - <p>“Get back in there, if you please,” he snarled, “and - stay there.”</p> - - <p>While the officers were waiting for the wagon one - of the big men went upstairs and brought down two - “guests.” They were about half awake and looked - as if they had been on a drunk. They sat down beside - me on the settee. One of them fell into a sound sleep - and the other sat with his elbows on his knees and - his hands on the sides of his head. Neither of them - spoke. In a few minutes the wagon arrived. The - girls were all ordered to go out and get in it, which - they did. Then the two men and I were ordered to do - the same. The madam and one of the big men got - into a hack that appeared to be waiting and drove - away.</p> - - <p>The excited little man who had caused all the - trouble got into the wagon with the other big man and - sat beside him.</p> - - <p>When I was being put in the wagon I protested and - tried to explain, but the detectives roughly ordered me - to shut up. The “harness cop” who had been at the - front door went back to his beat. I did not see - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span>anything of Mike, who had been ordered to stay at the - back door.</p> - - <p>The girls laughed and joked on the way to the - station and shouted “rubberneck” at everybody that - looked in at the back of the open wagon. The police - station was on one corner of Market Square, one of - the busiest corners in the city. Hundreds of people - were there daily, selling their produce. Their time was - about evenly divided between serving their customers - and watching the patrol wagon spewing its loads of - humanity into the city prison. It seemed to me they - were all there as we were unloaded and hurried - through a solid lane of them into the police station. - Madam Singleton was there before us, and with her - was a tall, sharp-looking man, gray and about fifty. - I never found out who he was, but he looked like a - lawyer.</p> - - <p>The madam, the tall man, and the two big men, - who were plain-clothes detectives, went to one side, - talking earnestly for a minute or two. The rest of us - just stood there and waited. One of the detectives - went into an office off the big room we were in, and - came out at once with a man in uniform he called - “captain.” The captain was a big, red-faced, - gray-haired, good-natured Irishman. “Well, what’s this all - about?” he said, smiling. The detective stepped over - to the small, nervous man and said to the captain:</p> - - <p>“Captain, this man complains that one of the girls - in Kate Singleton’s place took one hundred dollars, - two fifty-dollar bills, from him some time last night or - this morning. We went down to her place and saw - the girl. She denies that she took it.</p> - - <p>“We searched her room and couldn’t find it. The - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span>balance of them don’t know anything, so they say. He - wants them all searched. We couldn’t do it there, so - we pinched everybody in the house and here they are, - ten of ’em, seven women and three men.”</p> - - <p>The captain took the little man in hand. “Who - are you?” The little man hesitated.</p> - - <p>“Come on, out with it. If you want any help here - you’ve got to come clean.”</p> - - <p>The little man gave him a name. I could not hear - it.</p> - - <p>“Where are you from?”</p> - - <p>“Emporia, Kansas, is my town.”</p> - - <p>“What do you do for a living?”</p> - - <p>“I’m a hog raiser.”</p> - - <p>“When did you come to the city?”</p> - - <p>“Yesterday morning.”</p> - - <p>“What did you come here for?”</p> - - <p>“Oh, just to look around.”</p> - - <p>The captain smiled. “How much money did you - have when you got off the train here yesterday - morning?”</p> - - <p>“I had two hundred dollars in paper money and - some small change.”</p> - - <p>“How much have you spent since you arrived here?”</p> - - <p>“I spent twenty-five dollars for a suit of clothes - and fifteen dollars for an overcoat. I paid a dollar - for a room and I spent about five dollars around - town.”</p> - - <p>“Is that all? Are you sure, now? Think again.”</p> - - <p>“Yes, that’s all,” said the hog man.</p> - - <p>“You’re a liar,” Madam Singleton said in a cold, - level voice. “You gave Julia ten dollars.”</p> - - <p>“Now, now, Kate,” said the captain, “don’t get - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span>excited. I’ll take care of this thing all right.” Then - to the hog man:</p> - - <p>“Guess you forgot about that ten dollars, hey?”</p> - - <p>“Yes, I forgot that,” he said meekly.</p> - - <p>“All right; now, how much have you in your - pockets?”</p> - - <p>He took out some bills and counted them. - “Forty-five dollars is all I have.”</p> - - <p>The captain counted them and returned them. - “That’s correct. Now, which girl took your money?”</p> - - <p>The man pointed out the youngest girl of the bunch. - She was about twenty or twenty-two, a plump girl with - a boyish face and lots of black hair. She was pleasant - looking, but not pretty, and she did not look as worn - and tired as the others.</p> - - <p>She looked straight at him but never opened her - mouth. The lawyer-looking man said to her: “Julia, - did you take that man’s money?”</p> - - <p>“No,” she answered.</p> - - <p>“Take all these women in and have the matron - search them. Madam Singleton, you have no - objection to being searched, have you?” smiled the captain.</p> - - <p>“None at all, captain, only make it short and sweet. - I am losing time and money here.”</p> - - <p>They all trooped off to a room down the hall.</p> - - <p>An officer came out from behind the desk and - searched me and the two drunks. We had no - fifty-dollar bills, so he told us to sit on a bench in front of - his desk. The lawyer, or bondsman, or fixer, or - whatever he was, paced up and down the room nervously. - The captain had gone back to his office.</p> - - <p>In a few minutes a big, mannish-looking woman with - red hands and a tough walk came along.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span>“Well, what did you find?” said the lawyer.</p> - - <p>“Nothing. They didn’t have a hundred dollars - among them.”</p> - - <p>The lawyer then hunted up the detective and the - hog man. The detective got the captain. The matron - made her report and the officer who searched me and - the other two did the same.</p> - - <p>The captain turned to the hog man.</p> - - <p>“All these people have been searched and your - money has not been found. What do you want to do - now?”</p> - - <p>“I want that girl locked up. I know she got my - money. I know I had two fifty-dollar bills rolled up - with my other bills when I went into that house, and - when I got to my room I looked at my money and - they were gone.”</p> - - <p>“How long was it before you got to your room - after you left Madam Singleton’s?” asked the - lawyer.</p> - - <p>“Oh, I walked around for an hour or two.”</p> - - <p>“Oh, you did, eh? Why, you probably had your - pocket picked on the street.”</p> - - <p>The big captain roared out a laugh and said to the - lawyer:</p> - - <p>“It must have been an Emporia, Kansas, pickpocket. - No Missouri dip would take his roll, extract two - fifty-dollar bills, and put the rest back in his pocket.”</p> - - <p>The lawyer appeared to get angry. “You’ve - searched everybody but me.”</p> - - <p>He turned to the hog man fiercely. “Do you want - me searched?”</p> - - <p>“No, I don’t.”</p> - - <p>“Well, I want you searched. You are just the kind - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span>of a yap that gets up in the middle of the night and - hides his money so carefully that he has to have a - policeman find it for him in the morning. Go ahead - and search him,” he said to the detective.</p> - - <p>“All right, go ahead,” said the hog man.</p> - - <p>The detective went through his trousers carefully, - placing everything on a counter, then through his vest, - then into his inner coat pocket. No money. Then, as - an afterthought, just to make a good job of it, he felt - in the coat pockets. In the first one was a bag of - tobacco, and as he pulled a handkerchief from the last - coat pocket two bills fluttered to the floor.</p> - - <p>The lawyer stooped, picked up the two bills, looked - at them, and handed them to the captain. The hog - man’s eyes bulged till they looked ready to fall out - of his head. He was making a dry noise down in his - throat that sounded like the quack of a duck. The - captain handed him the bills.</p> - - <p>“Is this your money?” he scowled.</p> - - <p>After inspecting the bills and recovering his voice, - the hog man said: “Yes, I think it is.”</p> - - <p>The lawyer plucked him by the lapel with one hand, - and shook the other in his face. “You dirty little - swine, get your property off that counter. Get out of - here and back to your hog pastures before I have you - locked up.”</p> - - <p>The dazed and thoroughly crushed victim hastily - gathered up his things and went out with them in his - hands.</p> - - <p>I was pop-eyed with amazement at this swift, - smashing reversal of the situation. The two drunks beside - me were but mildly interested. Nobody, from the - captain down to Julia, the accused, seemed surprised. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span>I could not understand why the whole crowd did not - fall on the hog man and tear him to pieces. The - captain disappeared into his office. The detective walked - out to the sidewalk. The lawyer turned to Kate and - the girls, bowing:</p> - - <p>“Madam, and ladies, shall we depart?”</p> - - <p>“It’s about time,” said the madam in a positive - voice. “I’m hungry enough to eat a raw dog.”</p> - - <p>They all moved out into the street. I was left on the - bench with the two drunks. The detective strolled - back in. The desk man pointed to us.</p> - - <p>“What will I do with this outfit, Hayes?”</p> - - <p>Hayes appeared to be disgusted. “Oh, charge them - with drunk.”</p> - - <p>“The kid’s not drunk.”</p> - - <p>“Vag him then.”</p> - - <p>“What were you doing in that joint, anyway?” to - me.</p> - - <p>“I went in there to collect a milk bill, sir, and was - waiting for the money when all this happened.”</p> - - <p>“Where is the bill?”</p> - - <p>I produced it.</p> - - <p>“Do you work for this man?” he asked, after - inspecting it.</p> - - <p>“Yes, sir.”</p> - - <p>“Why in hell didn’t you say so at the start?”</p> - - <p>“I tried to, sir, but everybody told me to shut up. - The policeman would not let me go out.”</p> - - <p>He turned to the drunks and asked them if they - had ten dollars to put up for bail to appear in the - morning. They had, and the desk man took them - into another room. I saw them no more. When he - came back, Hayes said:</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span>“Take the kid upstairs: lock him up with George. - I’ll find out about him.”</p> - - <p>The women were gone, the drunks were out, and I - was the only one detained. It looked all wrong to me. - The sergeant took me down to the end of the hall - and opened an iron door. It was as if he had opened - the door to hell. My blood stopped circulating. We - stepped inside and he locked the door behind us. - Never since, except perhaps in the half dreams of - opium, have I been so frozen with horror. We were - standing on a balcony overlooking the half basement - that served as the city prison. In front of us was a - latticework iron door that opened on an iron stairway - leading down into the cell house. The cells were built - around the four sides of a cement-floored square, and - opened into it. It was supper time and pandemonium - was on.</p> - - <p>The sergeant rapped on the iron door with his - heavy keys, trying to attract the attention of some one - below. Failing to make himself heard, he told me to - stay there till he could get a “trusty” to take me - upstairs. He went out the way we came in, and left - me locked in between the two doors on the balcony. - The cells below had all been thrown open and there - were about fifty prisoners in the open space. They - seemed to be about equally divided between negroes - and whites, of all ages. The air choked me; it was - putrid, heavy, and thick with the stench of foul food, - foul clothes, foul bodies, and foul sewers. In the - farthest corner of the square a gigantic black was - standing guard over a huge smoking caldron.</p> - - <p>He was shirtless and barefoot. A leather belt - supported his overalls, his only clothing. Sweat glinted - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span>on his broad back and chest. He was armed with a - long-handled ladle which he dished out the “stew” - with, or beat back the stronger and more venturesome - prisoners who crowded too closely around the caldron.</p> - - <p>I saw no jailers or guards. There was no pretense - at order. The younger and stronger men shoved and - elbowed their way to the big stew pot, snarling and - snapping at each other like a pack of starved dogs. - Old men and young boys stood around waiting meekly - for the strong to be fed first.</p> - - <p>The big negro wielded his ladle, filling the tin pans - nearest him. Bread was being served from a large - box in another spot, but there appeared to be plenty - of it and there was no scramble there. Several - new-looking prisoners walked about, making no effort to get - food. They were “fresh fish,” new arrivals, who had - not yet acquired the “chuck horrors,” that awful - animal craving for food that comes after missing half - a dozen meals.</p> - - <p>At last the weaker ones were served. The cursing, - shouting, and fighting were stilled. The big negro - wheeled his stew pot away and the empty bread box - disappeared. Some of the prisoners went into their - cells to eat; some sat down outside on the floor, while - others ate standing. Some had spoons, others ate - with their fingers, sopping at the bottom of the pan - with a piece of bread.</p> - - <p>The meal was quickly over. The tin pans, - unwashed, were thrown into the cells. The young - negroes began singing and buck dancing. White men - who had been tearing at each other ten minutes before - around the big pot were now laughing and talking in - a friendly fashion, and everybody lit up a smoke. The - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span>air was so filled with tobacco smoke and steam - from the stew that I could barely distinguish forms - below.</p> - - <p>It was growing dark and gas jets were lighted but - gave no light. I heard a rattling of keys; somewhere - some one shouted “Inside.” The shadowy forms - shuffled into their cells, and there came the tremendous - din of iron doors being slammed shut. The prison was - locked up for the night.</p> - - <p>I do not know how long I had been standing there. - Not more than fifteen minutes, but it seemed a - lifetime. A trusty prisoner appeared at my side.</p> - - <p>“Come on, you.”</p> - - <p>I followed him up a short stairway where he opened - a door and we went into a short hall with cells on - either side. It was directly above the city prison. - As we passed down the hall I heard women’s voices; - one of them shouted, “Fresh fish, girls.”</p> - - <p>Faces appeared at the barred doors. A colored girl, - as we passed her cell, said: “Hello, boy, what you-all - been doin’?”</p> - - <p>At the end of the hall the trusty stopped at a large - room with a barred door. I could look inside. The - room was well lighted. Newspapers were lying about. - I saw two clean-looking cots, a table on which were - books and a box of cigars, and a couple of chairs.</p> - - <p>A man was pacing up and down the room, smoking. - He wore a comfortable-looking pair of slippers and - was in his shirt sleeves. He paid no attention to us till - the trusty said: “George, the skipper sent up some - company for you.”</p> - - <p>He turned sharply and came to the door. He was - a fine-looking man about forty years of age, well - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span>groomed, fresh shaven. He was tall. His hair was - gray. His face was pleasant to look at. He might - have been a doctor or lawyer. I found myself - wondering what he could have done to get locked in a jail. - He looked at me carefully for a minute. When he - spoke his voice was surprisingly pleasant. There was - a suggestion of the South in his drawl.</p> - - <p>“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, kid, but if you - are lousy don’t come in here, that’s all.”</p> - - <p>The trusty assured George that I was not lousy, - that there was no charge against me and I would - be out in an hour or two.</p> - - <p>I was locked in.</p> - - <p>I had no jail manners then, so I just stood at the - door with my hat on, intending to wait there till some - one came to let me go. All prisoners do that the first - time. Presently my companion told me to take my hat - off and sit down, and try to be comfortable.</p> - - <p>“You may get out in an hour and you may not. You - never can tell. You are beginning young. How old - are you?”</p> - - <p>“Sixteen.”</p> - - <p>“What are you pinched for?”</p> - - <p>I told him all about it.</p> - - <p>“That’s everyday business here,” he said. “Usually - the sucker is a married man and can’t squawk. But - when he does squawk, like this one, the only thing to - do is to blow back his money. Either the lawyer or - one of the girls eased it into his coat pocket. That’s - better than returning it to him and admitting that they - tried to rob him.</p> - - <p>“The whole thing was a stand-in from the captain - down. Everybody’s satisfied. The sucker has his - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span>money, the girls are all out, Kate will charge Julia - fifty dollars for the lawyer’s fee, and that ends it.</p> - - <p>“You appear to be the only real sucker in the bunch. - By God! Those coppers are fierce. They’ll leave you - here till you rot. I’ve always said a copper is a copper - till you cut his head off.”</p> - - <p>He got a tin cup and scraped it across the bars of - the door. The trusty bounced in. “Go down and get - the desk sergeant.”</p> - - <p>I never saw a prisoner get quicker action. The - sergeant came at once.</p> - - <p>“It’s a rotten shame to keep this kid locked up, Sam. - Did you hear his story? Go down and get Hayes and - tell him to let him go home. Send a messenger to his - boss. I’ve got plenty of money down there; charge - it to me.”</p> - - <p>The sergeant went out, promising to “look into it - right away.” Our cell—it was more like a room—was - in a small corridor set apart for the women prisoners’ - quarters. Down the hall I could hear them calling to - each other and chatting back and forth from their cells. - Somewhere a colored woman was singing a mournful - dirge about “That Bad Stackalee.” The verses were - endless. The point of the song seemed to be that the - negro bully, Stackalee, had been killed with “a big - forty-four gun over a damned old Stetson hat.” In the - most harrowing tones at the end of every verse the - singer moaned the sad refrain, “That ba-a-d - Stackalee.”</p> - - <p>Later I came to know that this song is a favorite - among negroes when in great trouble, such as being - locked in jail, being double-crossed by a friend, or - parting with their money in a dice game. At such times - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span>thirty or forty verses of “Stackalee” invariably restores - the laughing good humor and child-like confidence of - the wronged one.</p> - - <p>We heard a rattling of keys and a door opening. - George put the side of his face against the cell door, - so he could see down the hall.</p> - - <p>“Get your hat, kid; here they are.”</p> - - <p>The detective came up with my two bosses—the - milkman and Tex, the gambler. The trusty opened - the door.</p> - - <p>“Out you go,” said the detective, “and the next time - you get jammed up say something before you get - thrown in. Holler before you’re hurt; that’s my - motto.”</p> - - <p>I said good-by to my benefactor, George, and - thanked him awkwardly. When I met him years - after and had a chance to return his kindness, I learned - he was a most distinguished criminal; a man who had - stolen fortunes and spent them, who had killed a - crooked pal, and served many prison sentences.</p> - - <p>“Forget it, kid, and don’t let them scare you out of - your job. You go right back next week and collect - your bills.”</p> - - <p>Tex and the milkman escorted me to the cigar store. - The evening games had not started when we went into - the back room, so I told my story again. The milkman - sympathized and promised to raise my commission on - the bills. Tex was relieved to learn that I had not - mentioned his “store” to the police.</p> - - <p>Collection day came around again, and I made my - rounds without incident till I got to Madam - Singleton’s, the last place. A colored maid, the only person - that escaped arrest the week before, opened the door. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span>When she saw me she screamed at the top of her - voice:</p> - - <p>“Oh, Miss Kate, here’s the pore milk boy.”</p> - - <p>“Bring him right up here, Jo, this minute.”</p> - - <p>The maid led me upstairs, then down a hall and to - the madam’s room. She was in the midst of dressing - for the evening, but when I appeared in the door she - stopped, kicked a bunch of clothes to one side, came - over and, putting her arm around me, led me into the - room.</p> - - <p>“Well, you poor boy,” she patted my back. “We - are ashamed to face you after going off and forgetting - you in jail. Julia thought of you about nine o’clock - that night, and I sent down word right away about you. - They said you were out and gone home. We never - expected to see you again. You must have dinner with - us. It’s ready now, and Julia wants to apologize to - you. Not that it was her fault,” she added quickly. - “It was just something that couldn’t be helped. Those - men from the country are always—ah—misplacing - their money. We are continually having trouble with - them.”</p> - - <p>She was so charming and friendly and natural, so - different from the crabby widow at my boarding house, - the only woman I had any contact with, that I found - myself wondering if George had not been too severe - in judging them.</p> - - <p>She went on with her dressing, and I looked about - the room curiously. I had a dim recollection of my - mother’s room—a plain bed, a bureau, a big - rocking-chair, and a rag carpet. I had looked into the widow’s - room at the boarding house, too. That was plainer - than my mother’s. It had a cheap, single bed; a - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span>packing case covered with a sheet, and a cracked mirror - propped against the wall served as a bureau. There - was a hard-looking chair at the head of the bed. There - was no carpet on the widow’s floor.</p> - - <p>Madam Singleton’s room had carpets an inch thick, - and the biggest, softest bed and the fattest pillows - you could imagine. Her bureau was half as large as - the bed, but seemed too small for the things piled on - it—boxes, bottles, brushes, combs, pieces of jewelry, - and a hundred other articles I had never seen and - could not guess the use of. Mirrors were everywhere; - from where I sat I could see my face, my profile, or my - back. A huge trunk, as big as a bungalow it looked, - was in a corner. Its top was thrown back and the tray - was on the floor. It was piled high with letters and - cards and photos of men. The trunk was overflowing - with stockings, garters, ribbons, feathers, and soft, - silky-looking garments. My eyes strayed into the - open door of a closet. It was full of coats and cloaks, - long and short, some of fur of different colors, and - others of expensive cloth. Wide rimmed and - feathered hats hung everywhere, and the carpet was half - covered with shoes, slippers, sandals, gloves, and silk - dresses. Over everything hung the odor of perfume. - Years after I heard Madam Singleton described as a - very beautiful woman. When she turned from her - mirror, I thought she looked as a queen ought to - look.</p> - - <p>Tall, straight, dark-haired with big, brave black - eyes; warm, full of color, glowing; a dominating - woman.</p> - - <p>I heard a small bell tinkling downstairs.</p> - - <p>“That means dinner, young man. Come with me.”</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V</h2> - </div> - - <p>“<span class="smcap">Give</span> me a name, any name you like,” said the - madam as we went downstairs. “I want you to meet - my girls. They’ll all be glad to see you again.”</p> - - <p>I had but one name then, so I gave her that, and - was introduced to the girls who were waiting in the - dining room, the same six girls that had been arrested. - If they noticed my embarrassment they did not show it. - Two or three of them nodded, looked at me half - curiously, half amused; the others, excepting Julia, - did not even glance at me. She came over to - where I stood, put her arms about my neck, and - kissed me.</p> - - <p>“Oh, you poor kid, I never felt so sorry for - anything in my life.”</p> - - <p>I was seated between the madam and Julia. The - dinner was a marvel—fried chicken, hot biscuits, green - vegetables. Beer was served, but I did not like it and - the maid got me milk. The madam and Julia were - the only ones that ate heartily. The others picked - at their food, yawned, and looked at each other with - low-lidded, feline calculating glances, seldom speaking. - They looked and acted tired, worn, old, frustrated, - disappointed. A big dark woman opposite me got a - bottle from the sideboard and poured herself a drink - of something.</p> - - <p>“Now, my dear, be careful,” said the madam.</p> - - <p>“Why didn’t you say that a year ago, Miss Kate?”</p> - - <p>She took a piece of chicken in her fingers and went - into a room across the hall where she played “Annie - Rooney” on the piano and sang with her mouth full - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span>of food. Two others got up and went out. A blond - girl pushed her chair back, lighted a cigarette, - and began doing her fingernails. The maid came and - whispered to another, who jumped up quickly and - disappeared.</p> - - <p>Julia had finished the chicken and was crunching - the bones between her strong white teeth. The last - of the tired-looking girls stood up, put her foot on a - chair, and ran her arm, elbow deep, into her stocking. - She came up with a small roll of bills which she threw - across the table to the madam, sullenly. “Thank the - Lord that’s over,” she said, and went out.</p> - - <p>The madam counted the money carefully, bent - over, and put both her arms under the table; when she - straightened up the money had disappeared.</p> - - <p>Julia chattered away and ate everything in sight. - She wanted to know if I had ever lived in the country, - if I could ride a horse, if I had ever caught a fish, if - I could “shoot off a revolver.”</p> - - <p>The dinner was over and I was thinking about my - milk bill. After this wonderful hour I hesitated about - presenting it to the madam. She may have seen what - was in my mind, for she said, “Julia, you have talked - so much to this boy that he has forgotten what he - came here for.”</p> - - <p>“I’m not done talking yet, Miss Kate. You know - Sunday is my day out, and I’ve made up my mind to - have a horseback ride in the country. I’ve been - wanting to do that ever since I came here and here is my - chance. The kid here can ride, and I’ll take him with - me. If you’ll go,” turning to me.</p> - - <p>I hesitated.</p> - - <p>“Oh, come on. I’ll pay for the horses and - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span>everything, and see that you get back before dark,” she - laughed.</p> - - <p>“All right, I’ll go,” I said.</p> - - <p>Julia looked at the madam. “Oh, I have no - objection, Julia. You’ll be out of mischief for one day and - you’re just a couple of kids, anyway.”</p> - - <p>She took my bill, gave me the money and went out.</p> - - <p>Julia was hopping around like a sparrow. “Let’s - see,” she said. “You be here Sunday morning at, oh, - ten o’clock. No, not here, that’s no good. Be at - the drug store down on the corner at ten. I’ll meet - you there.”</p> - - <p>I promised to be there and departed. On my way - home I passed the police station and pictured in my - mind the inferno inside—the big negro swinging his - ladle above the snarling, cursing horde of half-starved - prisoners in the stinking bowels of the city prison.</p> - - <p>At Madam Singleton’s my boyish mind had not - grasped the greater tragedy. Fresh air, light, meat, - drink, and music—that was all I saw there then. - But the tired women were prisoners more - hopeless than the savage men fighting for food in the jail. - The bodily comforts they had at Madam Singleton’s - but served to tighten their shackles. Life-timers of - society, they were slowly sinking without a straw to - grasp at.</p> - - <p>The time flew till Sunday. I looked over my clothes - and wished I had my gray suit and gray hat. I had - saved my money but had not enough yet to buy them.</p> - - <p>I was apprehensive about meeting Julia. I could - picture her coming into the drug store for me in a - dashing big hat, rustling silk dress, expensive shoes, - all powdered, perfumed, and painted as she was in - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span>Madam Singleton’s. And me with my pants too short, - my coat sleeves way up my wrists, and my shirt open - at the collar. I wanted to go, but at times my heart - failed me, and when I went to bed the Saturday night - before I was still undecided, hesitating.</p> - - <p>Sunday morning I got up early, determined to face - the thing. I also settled another matter that had - disturbed my mind of late. I got a shave. I walked - around till I found an idle barber in his empty shop. - He fixed me up with as much ceremony as if I had - been an old customer.</p> - - <p>At ten I was at the drug store, and Julia was inside, - waiting. I had to look twice to be sure of her. She - wore a faded blue tailored suit, a wide-rimmed straw - sailor hat with a ribbon, and a pair of worn but - substantial shoes. No powder or paint, nothing to - remind me of Madam Singleton’s.</p> - - <p>“Don’t pay any attention to my clothes.” She saw - me looking at them. “These are the ones I had on - when I went there. I have lots of others, but Miss - Kate won’t let me wear them when I go out unless I - am with her. I owe her so much money she is afraid - I’ll run away. All the girls owe her. They are always - in debt to her; that’s the way she keeps them there.”</p> - - <p>We hunted up a livery stable near by. A big, - good-natured fat man was in charge, and we told him we - wanted some gentle saddle horses. He looked at - Julia. She had a cocky air, and acted more like a - boy than a girl.</p> - - <p>“Do you want to ride straddle-legged, gal? If you - do, I’ve got some of them bloomer things.”</p> - - <p>Julia did not blush or stammer. “No, I don’t want - to ride straddle. What do you think I am anyway?” - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span>She was angry. “You get me a riding habit and a - side saddle and mind your own business.”</p> - - <p>He went after the horses.</p> - - <p>“We’ll go down to the river, get the ferry, and go - over into the woods. I hope we find some place to - eat over there. I am hungry already,” she said.</p> - - <p>I had been too occupied to think of breakfast and - was hungry, too, and suggested that we go across the - street and get a bite. When we came back the horses - were ready. The fat man boosted Julia up into her - saddle, and we dashed off like Indians. Our way to - the river led past Miss Kate’s. When we were in - front of it Julia pulled up her horse, and we stopped.</p> - - <p>“They are all dead to the world in there except - Jo, the colored girl. They won’t get up till four this - afternoon. God, what a place! How I hate to go - back there!”</p> - - <p>The treacherous April showers came on us when - we got into the country and drove us into a deserted - cabin on an abandoned weed-grown farm. I built a - fire in the old fireplace. We found a couple of - homemade three-legged stools in a corner and in a box nailed - to the wall there was the greasiest pack of cards I - ever saw. We got a board that we put on the stools, - making a table, and played casino. The roof leaked - in a hundred places, the cabin was full of smoke, the - rain beat in from all sides, and Julia won every game. - She chattered away through it all, and hoped there - would be “a regular cyclone.” Discouraged, I threw - the cards in the fire. We were half wet and - watery-eyed from the smoke, the horses pawed restlessly in - the leaky shed behind the cabin. Julia laughed at me - and accused me of being a bad loser. I couldn’t think - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span>of anything else, so I said: “Oh, I’m half starved, - and there’s nothing to eat within miles of here.”</p> - - <p>She was just a healthy young animal, always hungry - like myself, and the thought of food, especially when - it was so far away, started her to raving. Nothing - would do but we must head for home. The - afternoon was half gone, the rain let up, and the sun shone - again. I stamped and beat out the fire.</p> - - <p>Julia climbed upon a tree stump in front of the - cabin, where she got into her riding habit. I brought - her horse around and she leaped to the saddle like - an acrobat. The horses, homeward bound, needed no - urging. We let them go as fast as they liked, and in - the evening pulled up safely in front of the livery - stable, where Julia insisted on paying the bill. The - fat man reached for the money I proffered, but she - snatched it out of my hand and made him take hers.</p> - - <p>“This is on me,” she said, returning my money, - “and so is the dinner. Come on, let’s find a good place - to eat.”</p> - - <p>The fat man looked at me slyly, started to say - something, but changed his mind. He was afraid of - Julia.</p> - - <p>Any place is a good place to eat when one is young - and hungry, and not burdened with money. We wasted - no time looking, but went into the first restaurant we - came to. Neither did we haggle over the menu card. - Julia found chicken, and there we stopped. She never - seemed to get enough of it. The dinner was a long - time coming; she popped her head out of the box every - minute looking for the busy waiter.</p> - - <p>“I wonder what’s happened to him. He has either - dropped dead or the police came and arrested him,” - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span>she was saying when he appeared. We fell on the - dinner and devoured it like a couple of hired men. - She had the waiter bring a cigar. I managed it fairly - well.</p> - - <p>Her chatter ceased. She sat quietly, elbows on the - table, her face covered with her hands, strong-looking, - large, capable hands, but white and shapely. I - smoked and wondered about her. What a partner - she would make for me if she were not a girl! She - pushed her chair back, rested her hands in her lap, - and looked up at her bedraggled straw hat on a hook. - I thought she was ready to go, and got up to get it.</p> - - <p>“Don’t touch it, I despise it,” she burst out. “I hate - these shoes.” She put her foot up. “And this dress - and every stitch of clothes on my back. Do you know - why? Because every one of them means a different - man. Do you want me to tell you about it; what a - tough time I’ve had? But you wouldn’t understand - it. You’re only a kid, like I was a couple of years - ago.”</p> - - <p>“Tell me, anyway, Julia.”</p> - - <p>Her story, new to me then, was as old as man’s - duplicity and woman’s inherent desire to be loved - and protected. Betrayed and deserted, fearing to face - her family, she stole enough of her father’s money - to take her to the city and into a hospital where her - baby was born. “And,” she continued, “I was glad - when it died, it was a girl. When I was well enough - to leave the hospital they couldn’t find my clothes. - Cheap as they were, somebody had taken them. A - man can go out into the street without a hat and coat, - kid, but just let a woman try it, even if she has the - nerve, and watch what happens to her. I had no - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span>money. The doctor gave me this dress; that is, he - sold it to me and I paid for it the first time he got - drunk. One of the internes traded me these shoes. - He was just a dirty little beast and didn’t wait to get - drunk. Then the hospital cook got me that hat and - some cheap stockings and underclothes. He happened - to be a white man,” she said bitterly. “I suppose I - would have taken them just the same if he had been - a negro or a Chinaman. After the drunken doctor - I thought of nothing but suicide, anyway. But I had - to have enough clothes to get through the street and - down to the bridge where I could jump into the - river.</p> - - <p>“The cook told me he would get me a job in a - restaurant downtown and that stopped me from going - to the river. He gave me money for a couple of - night’s lodging, and something to eat, and told me - where to go for a room. He came that night to my - room. When he left in the morning his last words - were: ‘I’ll go right out now and get you the job.’</p> - - <p>“I waited all day but he never came back. He was - a liar; I never saw him again. When the third night - came my money was gone. I was starving, and the - rent was due. I wanted to go down to the river then, - but was so hungry I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”</p> - - <p>She had talked furiously, with a storm of bitter - words. Now she stopped and smiled. “Yes, this - appetite of mine saved my life. I’ll never die hungry - if I can help it.</p> - - <p>“Anyway,” she resumed, “this is the long and the - short of it. About nine o’clock that night the woman - of the place came up and wanted the rent. I told her - I was broke, and asked her to stand me off for a few - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span>days till I could get a job or give me something to do - so I could earn the rent.</p> - - <p>“What do you think she did, kid—the big, - man-eater! She took me by the arm, dragged me out into - the hall and pushed me downstairs. She went back and - got my hat, that straw hat hanging up there, and threw - it out on the sidewalk after me.</p> - - <p>“A policeman was standing there and saw her do it. - He came up and asked me what the trouble was about. - Here is where I may get help, I thought, so I told him - I had just left the hospital, that my money was all - spent, and that I had been put out of my room. He - asked how old I was. I told him I was eighteen—that’s - two years ago, I’m twenty now. He asked if - I lived here in the city. I told him I lived in the - country, but was going to stay in the city and work. - He wrote something on a card and gave it to me, - saying: ‘I’ll get a hack driver to take you to a hotel. When - you get there give that card to the landlady.’</p> - - <p>“The driver took me a few blocks to a place where - he stopped, let me out, and helped me up the steps. - He rang the bell and went away. I gave the card to - a colored girl who opened the door. She came back - in a minute and asked me to come in—and,” she - finished wearily, “I’ve been in Miss Kate’s ever since, - kid.</p> - - <p>“Miss Kate took me in and dressed me up. She - charged me double for my clothes. I pay her, she - pays the milliner. It’s the same with all her girls. - No girl ever goes into her place unless she is broke - and ragged and sick and hungry. I’ve been there two - years, and if I stay there twenty years I will still be in - debt to her. The longer I stay the more I owe. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span>Everybody charges us double for what we buy. We have - to go to a certain drug store where we get robbed. - On our days off, Miss Kate takes us around to her - friends in the saloons and restaurants, and they rob - us. We go out with her because we can wear our best - clothes and look good and she shows us off to her - customers.</p> - - <p>“Once in a while a girl gets so discouraged that she - runs out into the street in her wrapper, but she don’t - get out of the block. Some other landlady’s door is - open and she goes in hoping to get fairer treatment - and a chance to save part of the money she earns, but - it’s the same old thing. What the madam don’t get - goes to the doctors, druggists, hack drivers, and - messengers. All we get is enough to eat, enough to wear, - and plenty to drink if we’re foolish enough to go that - route. God only knows what becomes of these girls - when they get too old and ugly. They go down and - down from one place to another till they finally land - in the street, old, worn out, dissipated and diseased. - No man will have them. I guess they go to the river - or to the hospital.</p> - - <p>“Bad as Miss Kate’s is, it is better than having to - trade yourself for a few shabby rags like I did. Miss - Kate won’t let drunken men come in and beat us and - abuse us. The men we meet don’t lie to us or deceive - us like they do out in the world. They come in and - look us over just like the butcher used to look at my - father’s fat hogs in the fall. We know what they - come for; they know we know. So there’s no lying - and deception and promising you a job. Of course - they will steal your money out of the bureau drawers - or your hair brush or a pair of garters or silk - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span>stockings, but you soon learn to protect yourself. - Sometimes, when they get drunk, they give you a few dollars - for yourself, or lose it on the floor and you put your - foot on it. Sometimes a girl gets so in debt that she - steals a few dollars from the men to spend decently - when she can get out by herself.”</p> - - <p>“Julia,” I asked, “did you take the hog man’s - money?”</p> - - <p>“No,” she snapped, bristling. She lied bravely, and - I knew it, and respected her for it, somehow. It was - one of those lies you know to be a lie and yet believe. - The beauty of her lie was that she just let it go with - that plain, short “No!” She did not go into any long - explanations or excuses, or blame it on anybody else. - It was a perfect lie, any way you look at it.</p> - - <p>She lied to me and made me like it. My mind was - much disturbed by this terrible story, so new to me, - and a hundred plans came into it for helping her, but - she seemed so independent, confident, and resourceful - that I hesitated.</p> - - <p>She struck the table with her fist. “If I ever put - my foot out of that place again I’ll stay out. I was - foolish to go out to-day; it’s so much harder to go - back now, after all the fun we’ve had. If I had a - change of clothes I would stay away and try to get - a job and start over again. I’ve got to get out - of there while I’m young and strong enough to - work.”</p> - - <p>“Don’t go back, Julia,” I advised. “Take my - money, get a room and a few clothes. I’ll help you - find a job. I know how. I have forty dollars saved up. - You take that and we will earn more. It’s at my room. - You wait here till I get it.”</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span>“Sit down,” she said. “Sit down. Why, you poor - kid, I wouldn’t take your money on a bet. I’d rot - in Miss Kate’s first. Don’t you know you are the - only human being I’ve met since I left home that hasn’t - tried to do me some kind of dirt? I am going to start - in saving every nickel this week, and if I can find some - way to get a few clothes out of there I’ll kiss Miss - Kate’s good-by forever.”</p> - - <p>Here was a chance for adventure. “I’ll take your - clothes out of there, Julia,” I could see myself going - into Miss Kate’s with my two rusty pistols and - demanding Julia’s clothes. I could see the madam blustering - and protesting, the girls all gathered around, myself - standing there, adamant.</p> - - <p>“No excuses, madam, if you please. I want Julia’s - clothes and Julia.”</p> - - <p>Nothing to it, simple!</p> - - <p>“How are you going to do it?” Julia asked. “If - you went in there and tried to take them they would - throw you out.”</p> - - <p>“Well, how can I do it? Any way you say.”</p> - - <p>She thought a long time before she answered: “I - could tie them in a sheet and throw them out the - window into the alley, kid, to you.”</p> - - <p>This wasn’t heroic enough to suit me, but it sounded - practical. I wanted to help her, so I consented.</p> - - <p>“And how are you going to get away if I get your - clothes?”</p> - - <p>She thought again. “This week, kid, you hunt up - some hack driver you can trust and tell him what you - want to do. You can have him in the alley with his - hack. I’ll throw the clothes out. You put them in the - hack. Then I’ll come downstairs, go out through the - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span>kitchen, and over the back fence into the alley. Nobody - will pay any attention to me going out in my parlor - wrapper without a hat.</p> - - <p>“Next Saturday when you come with your bill I’ll - see you in the hall and tell you what night to come - and what time.” Julia was herself again; all - animation, chattering like a sparrow. “It can’t fail, kid. - I can feel myself out of there already. All you have - to do is get a hack driver, a big, tough one that won’t - get scared and run away. That’s all settled, and it’s - time for me to get back to Miss Kate’s. It’s not so - hard to go now.”</p> - - <p>Again she insisted on paying the bill. I said good - night in front of the restaurant. She shook hands - with me heartily, boyishly; her hand was hard, firm, - and her grip something to inspire confidence. - “Saturday,” she said, darting away.</p> - - <p>I went home with my chest out, my shoulders up - in the air, and my head high. I thought of all my - heroes. No, I wouldn’t trade places with any of them. - Here was real work to do. I must find a hack driver, - “a big, tough one.”</p> - - <p>Cocky McAllister was tough enough. A lean, - hungry pirate with a balky eye, who cruised about - my neighborhood with his spavined horses and rickety - hack.</p> - - <p>I told him what I wanted.</p> - - <p>“Never let it be said that I refused to help any - young feller get himself a girl and get up in the - world,” he declared. “Say when. I’ll be on the spot - an’ it won’t cost you a dime, either.”</p> - - <p>Julia was waiting Saturday when I got to Madam - Kate’s.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span>“Did you get a driver, kid?”</p> - - <p>“Yes.”</p> - - <p>“Be in the alley to-morrow night at eight.”</p> - - <p>I promised to be there. That night I found Cocky - and readied him up for Sunday evening. He showed - up on the minute, and we were in the alley by Madam - Kate’s early. Julia was waiting at the window and out - came the bundle. I threw it into the hack. A minute - later Cocky snatched her off the fence, leaving part of - her wrapper behind. More of it was streaming out of - the hack door as I slammed it and we drove away.</p> - - <p>She wiped the powder and rouge off her face. “No - more of that stuff,” she said.</p> - - <p>On the way back to my neighborhood she spotted - a “Housekeeping Rooms” sign in the window of a - dingy-looking house. She stopped the hack and put - some money in my hand. “Dash up there, kid, and - hire a room, anything that’s vacant.”</p> - - <p>I secured a room quickly enough, came down, and - got her. Cocky followed with the bundle of clothes. - I lit the gas, Cocky threw the clothes on the bed.</p> - - <p>“This is the dirtiest room I ever saw,” said Julia, - “but it’s better than Miss Kate’s, and it’s home to - me. Good night and many thinks. I’ll see you later, - kid.”</p> - - <p>Back at the cigar store I treated Cocky to a good - smoke. “Kid,” he said, leering at me admiringly, - “you’ve got a gold mine; that dame’s a money-getter. - She’s young and healthy and good for years. Listen, - you put her right out on the street. Make her walk - the blocks. She’s workin’ for you then, an’ not the - landladies and landlords. Keep her away from the - other women. They’ll wise her up an’ you’ll lose her, - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span>or put her against hop an’ you’ll have a bum on your - hands. That’s all, now. Are you goin’ to start her - in to-night? The sooner the better.”</p> - - <p>“No, Mac,” I was anxious to get away from him. - “She’s tired and nervous. I think I’ll let her rest - to-night.”</p> - - <p>The police got Cocky that night. I never saw - him again. He never learned of my treason in - allowing Julia to stay off the streets.</p> - - <p>She came into the cigar store a few days later, - beaming, happy. “I’ve got a job, kid, at the Comique - jerking beer. Not so good, but better than Miss - Kate’s. It will do till I get a better one. Come down - and watch me work.”</p> - - <p>The Comique was an old-time collar-and-elbow - variety show long since supplanted by the modern - vaudeville show house. A dozen girls sold drinks to - the patrons on commission. A girl could live on her - commissions, but few of them did. I think Julia - managed to do it. I went down to see her and found her - bouncing with energy.</p> - - <p>“I’ve made three dollars already to-night, kid, and - it’s all mine.”</p> - - <p>I waited till she was ready to go home, and walked - with her. She had cleaned up the room till it looked - halfway decent. “You don’t have to go; the place - is as much yours as mine,” she said when I was - leaving. I didn’t think about her being a girl; I went home - because it was my habit. If she had been a boy I - would have done the same.</p> - - <p>I was busy all the time learning to gamble at Tex’s, - collecting bills for the milkman, and taking Julia home - after work. There was no mention of her the next - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span>time I went to Madam Singleton’s. She was forgotten, - and they never suspected me.</p> - - <p>I was saving my money, hoping some day to get my - gray suit, hat, and trunk. I told Julia of my ambition - to have the suit and leather trunk.</p> - - <p>“I’ll buy them for you, kid, as soon as I get a few - things myself.”</p> - - <p>“Never mind that, Julia, I’ll pay for them,” I said, - thinking of Cocky McAllister.</p> - - <p>I hung around the Comique every night, waiting for - Julia. She knew all the “actors” and told me about - them.</p> - - <p>The handsome young man who came out in a green - suit did a clog dance and sang “’Tis a handful of - earth” so feelingly worked daytimes in a near-by - chop-house. The two girls with skirts almost to their - knees that did the buck and wing dance sold beer in - the boxes. The comedians that beat and pummeled - each other about the stage starved around between - engagements at the local theaters. The strong man, - my favorite, turned out to be the bartender upstairs; - he also served as bouncer.</p> - - <p>Julia was ambitious to make more money and every - night practiced dancing in hopes that she could some - time do a turn at the theater. I served as her audience, - sat around till the small hours, and often fell asleep - in a chair or on the bed. One night we hurried home - ahead of a storm and I was on the bed asleep before - she had her supper cooked. She woke me up tugging - at me. “Get up, you poor kid; take your clothes off - and go to bed if you’re that dead for sleep.” She - helped me take off my shoes and I was soon asleep - again. She went to bed without waking me, but as - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span>I tossed about in the night I knew she was there and - was glad. Once my body touched hers—it was hot - and sticky. I pulled the sheet down between us and - turned away. The next morning as we were walking - to the restaurant for breakfast a heavy hand fell on - my shoulder; I turned to face my father.</p> - - <p>My father’s hand was heavy on my shoulder as - he pushed me into a doorway. He looked sad and - his stern voice shook. “John, do you know what you - are? You are a pimp.”</p> - - <p>Julia never stopped, never looked back, just kept - going, which was the right thing. She probably thought - I had been taken by the police. No good in her - getting arrested, too.</p> - - <p>Although for years I kept a sharp eye out, I never - saw her again; that is, to know her. Of course the - gray-haired old lady that sat next me in the car this - morning might have been Julia. But anyway, if she - is alive and this meets her eye, I want her to know - I never doubted for a minute that she stayed away - from the life she left behind at Madam Singleton’s.</p> - - <p>Later, when I went to her room, it was vacant. - The man in charge told me a strange, bearded - man with a policeman called on her—my father, no - doubt—after which she packed up and left without a - word.</p> - - <p>I called at the theater and inquired, but they had - forgotten her.</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VI</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">As</span> we walked to our boarding house I told my - father the whole story of my job in the cigar store, - my collecting for the milkman, my arrest, and our - rescue of Julia. He listened without comment, and - when I was done, said: “Well, John, you’ll be what - you’ll be, and I cannot help or hinder you. Go back - to your job in the morning if you like.”</p> - - <p>Those were his last words to me. They were kind, - and I have always remembered them and their ring - of fatality. I never saw him again. I learned later - that he lived out his life orderly and died decently. - He went away the next day, and when he returned - I was far away, westbound in search of adventure.</p> - - <p>I was tired of Tex and his tribe and their smoky - back room and cheap cheating. I was sick of the sight - of the crabby widow at the boarding house. It was - springtime. Sundown found me miles away on a - country road, walking westward. Yes, I was going - in the right direction. There was the sun going down - away off in front of me. Darkness was coming on, - but it did not strike me as unusual that I had no - supper or no room for the night.</p> - - <p>I came to a bridge and stopped when I heard voices - below. I looked over the side and a voice came up: - “Come on down, kid. Don’t be leary, we’re only a - couple of harmless bindle stiffs.”</p> - - <p>I picked my way down to the level place beside the - small creek where they were. One of them was - unrolling a “bindle” of blankets, the other was washing - a large tin can in the creek.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span>“Throw out your feet, kid, and get some wood - before it gets too dark. We’ll have a fire and a can - of Java, anyway.”</p> - - <p>Wood was plentiful. I soon returned with an - armful. The other bum came up with the can from the - creek and began breaking up some twigs to start the - fire. He barely looked at me. “Take a look around - the jungle, kid, and see if you can find a pan,” he - ordered.</p> - - <p>“What in hell do you want a pan for?” asked the - one that sent me after wood. “Are you going to fry - some water?” The other was on his hands and knees - blowing up the weak fire. He stood up and looked - at the speaker with a most superior air. “Not so - fast, brother, not so fast. I’ve got a gump in my - bindle.”</p> - - <p>He unrolled his blankets and produced a live - chicken, big and fat.</p> - - <p>The other bum was humbled. “A gump!” he - muttered, “and me carrying a fryin’ pan with me for the - last week.” He dived into his bindle and got - the pan.</p> - - <p>The owner of the chicken took the pan and held it - between his eye and the fire looking for holes in it. - “It’ll do,” he said. “More wood, kid,” they both - ordered.</p> - - <p>We were three strangers well met under the - bridge; one had a chicken, one coffee and a stale loaf - of bread. I had nimble legs and gathered the firewood.</p> - - <p>The gump was picked, cleaned, unjointed, and put - in the pan with neatness and despatch that would have - done credit to any chef. The coffee boiled fragrantly - in the tin can. The owner of the stale loaf hacked it - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span>into three equal parts with his strong pocketknife, - while the chicken man deftly turned sections of the - bird with a sharp-pointed stick.</p> - - <p>“This is a pretty snide jungle,” he said, “no cans. - Throw your feet, kid, and get some cans for the - Java.”</p> - - <p>I scurried around and was lucky to find one small - can in the dark. The cook inspected it. “Go down - and wash it, bring it back half full of water an’ I’ll - boil it out.”</p> - - <p>I washed the can and brought it back. The chicken - and coffee were cooked and cooling near the fire. The - cook scalded out the small can and filled it with coffee. - He held out the pan of chicken to the other bum and - then to me, helping himself to a piece last. The small - can of coffee was now cool enough to drink, and was - handed around in the same order. The first bum took - several swallows and passed it to me. I handed it - to the cook without drinking any. He looked at me - for the first time.</p> - - <p>“Say, brat, listen. If you was some kind of a rank - dingbat you wouldn’t have been invited down here. - Don’t think because you couldn’t hustle a can that - you ain’t entitled to your coffee.”</p> - - <p>“You’re right at that, Jack,” said the bum that - furnished the coffee. “Go ahead, kid.”</p> - - <p>I drank my coffee and passed the can along. We - ate in silence. The chicken and bread soon - disappeared. My companions lit up their pipes and - smoked while we finished the coffee.</p> - - <p>I was learning fast. I took the frying pan, filled it - with water, and put it on the fire, without waiting for - orders. When the water boiled I washed it at the - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span>creek, scrubbed it with sand, and returned it to the - owner.</p> - - <p>“Where you from, kid?”</p> - - <p>“The city,” I answered.</p> - - <p>“How long you been on the road?”</p> - - <p>“This is my first day.”</p> - - <p>“Got any people?”</p> - - <p>“No, they are all dead.”</p> - - <p>“Where you goin’?”</p> - - <p>“Oh, just west, anywhere, everywhere.”</p> - - <p>“Got any pennies?”</p> - - <p>“No pennies. I’ve got a couple of dollars.” I - looked from one to the other. “Do you want any - of it, either of you?”</p> - - <p>“No,” from both of them. “But,” said the cook, - “if we was in the city I’d take fifty cents of it purty - pronto and get myself a four-bit micky.”</p> - - <p>“A what?” I asked, mystified.</p> - - <p>“A four-bit micky, a fifty-cent bottle of - alcohol—Dr. Hall, white line,” he translated in disgust. “If - you’re goin’ west you better learn to talk west.”</p> - - <p>“Yes,” said the other, “and ‘pennies’ don’t mean - pennies. It means money, on the road.”</p> - - <p>They didn’t talk much between themselves; they - had probably compared notes before I arrived at the - bridge. They were both past fifty, wore clean overalls, - substantial shoes, and clean-looking blue shirts. A - month later I could have classified them correctly as - professional bums, too old to ride the trains, satisfied - to throw their feet along the “star routes,” or country - roads, where food was seldom refused, and to sleep - in their bindles, or blankets, under the stars.</p> - - <p>It was time to “flop.” They took off their shoes - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span>and coats. The shoes were neatly placed together on - a level spot; the coat was folded and placed on top - of them making a fair pillow, and at the same time - protecting them from theft. Each of them threw me - a piece of blanket. I made a pillow of my coat and - shoes, rolled up in the blankets, and was soon asleep.</p> - - <p>A farmer’s team crossing the bridge woke us at - daylight. I got up at once, cold and sore from the - hard ground, and made a fire. The other two crawled - out of their blankets and went down to the creek to - wash. I followed them. They both had soap wrapped - in paper. One of them gave me his piece. I washed - and returned it. He placed it on a rock till it was - dry, then wrapped it up and put it in his coat pocket. - They also had pocket combs and small round mirrors.</p> - - <p>We went back to the fire and discussed breakfast. - “Nothing but Java,” said the bum that had the coffee.</p> - - <p>“I’ll go to the farmhouse,” I volunteered, “and buy - something.”</p> - - <p>“Nix, nix,” said one; “buy nothin’,” said the other, - “it’s you kind of cats that make it tough on us, buyin’ - chuck. They begin to expect money. You go up to - that house,” pointing to a place on a small rise, about - fifteen minutes’ walk, “and tell the woman you and two - other kids run away from home in the city three days - ago and you ain’t had nothin’ but a head of cabbage - that fell off a farmer’s wagon between youse since you - left. Tell her you are on your way back home and - the other two kids are down by the bridge so hungry - they can’t walk. On your way up there git a phony - name and street number ready in case she asks you - questions. She’ll give you a sit-down for yourself, - chances are, but bring back a ‘lump’ for us. You’re - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span>a decent-lookin’ kid; she might git worked up about - your troubles and ask a lot of dam’ fool questions. - Cut her off. Tell her you’re ashamed to be settin’ - there wasting time and the other boys starvin’ under - the bridge.”</p> - - <p>Before I got to the house a couple of dogs dashed - out, barking savagely. A healthy, matronly woman - came out and quieted them, looking at me inquiringly. - I told her myself and two boy friends, runaways from - home, were hungry and I wanted some food, that I - would be glad to pay her for anything she could spare, - and if she would wrap it up I would hurry down to - the bridge with it, where my chums were waiting.</p> - - <p>“Yes,” she said kindly, “come in. I haven’t much - here, but maybe I can find enough.” She gave me a - seat outside near the kitchen door, where I waited - and made friends with the dogs. In no time she came - out with a large parcel, and refused the money I - offered. I thanked her and went down to the bridge - with my “lump.”</p> - - <p>The bums had coffee boiling. We found enough tin - cans to drink from and opened the parcel. It contained - cold, fried chicken, cold biscuits, and half a pie.</p> - - <p>“You’re a good connecter, kid; sure you didn’t pay - for this?” one of them said.</p> - - <p>“No, and I didn’t have to answer any questions. - It was easy except for the dogs.”</p> - - <p>“Don’t let dogs worry you, kid; they’re cowards. - I ought to know, I’ve been battlin’ ’em twenty - years. They’ll bite you if you turn your back or run - away, or if there’s a pack of ’em they’ll pull you - down. If you get up against a hostile dog, rush him - and he’ll weaken. I never got bit but once an’ that - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span>was in the town of Pueblo. I was just after gettin’ - a six months’ floater out of Denver an’ went down to - Pueblo to do a little D.D.ing with lavender for myself. - I got myself a bunch of lavender and a ducat.”</p> - - <p>The other bum laughed, his mouth full of chicken. - “You’re talkin’ Chinook to that kid. What does he - know about the D.D. and lavender and ducats.”</p> - - <p>“You’re right,” I said. “I don’t know what he is - talking about.” I was anxious to learn, but didn’t - like to ask questions.</p> - - <p>“Well, it’s this way,” he went on. “I was - dummyin’ up, see? Imitatin’ a deaf an’ dumb man. D.D.ing, - see? You surely know what lavender is—stuff women - put on clothes. You put about a spoonful in a small - envelope. You’ve got a pocketful of the envelopes - ready when you go out to make your ‘plunge.’ Then - you get your ducat, see? That’s the main thing. I - got a bartender to write it for me on the back of a - lawyer’s card. When the women opens the door you - slip her your ducat and she reads:</p> - - <blockquote> - <p>‘I am deaf and dumb. I got hurt by a street - car and just came out of the county hospital. - I am trying to get seven dollars to pay my fare - home to Cheyenne. Please take a parcel of - lavender and give what you can.’</p> - </blockquote> - - <p>Sometimes they take your lavender an’ sometimes they - don’t, but they generally give up something, an’ they - can’t ask you a lot of questions, and if a copper grabs - you you’ve got an out. You ain’t exactly beggin’.</p> - - <p>“As I was sayin’ about dogs. I was battering the - privates, see? Private houses. A woman had just - slipped me a dime an’ was standin’ in the front door - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span>watchin’ to see that I got off the premises. I’m about - halfway to the gate when I heard a dog snarlin’, an’ - comin’ up behind me. I’m D.D., see, an’ don’t want - to round on the damn dog an’ give myself a bawl-out - in front of the woman, so I stand my ground figgerin’ - she’ll stop him. The next thing I know he’s got half - my pants leg ripped off an’ a chunk out of one of my - shins. Anyway, I run him under the house. The - woman took me in an’ fixed me up with arnica an’ a - bandage. Then she gets me a good suit of her old - man’s clothes, gives me two dollars, and holds the - dog under the house till I get out the front gate. - That’s dogs for you,” he finished, “an’ women.”</p> - - <p>I had a question, but the other bum asked it for me. - “What do you do if you bump into a natural dummy - when you’re D.D.ing?”</p> - - <p>“Well,” said the dog expert, “I never bumped into - one, but if I did I suppose I’d do what everybody else - does when they’re wrong an’ get caught at it. I’d get - mad an’ cuss hell out of ’em.”</p> - - <p>Breakfast over, the bums shaved. Both had razors. - All bums carry razors for shaving, fighting, or cutting - through a sleeper’s clothing to get into his pocket. One - of them had a big silk handkerchief that he stropped - his razor on, the other used his belt. They heated - water in a tin can, lathered their hands, and rubbed - it on their faces. One used his mirror, the other used - none. After shaving they dried their blades carefully - and secreted them about their persons. Blankets were - rolled up, and the bums were ready to take the road. - The D.D. man was going into the city for a few days. - “So long.” He scrambled up the bank to the road.</p> - - <p>The other was traveling in my direction and - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span>volunteered to direct me to a junction where I could make - a westbound train.</p> - - <p>“You’re welcome to travel with me, kid, if you - want to jungle-up for a month or two,” my companion - said. “The fruit will be gettin’ ripe soon, and there’ll - be green corn and new spuds and the gumps are fat - already. I promise myself some famous mulligans - around these parts.”</p> - - <p>Many boys would have jumped at this chance, but - I declined. Maybe it was a dislike for begging, or - ambition, or my imagination pulling me westward. - I don’t know; but it wasn’t the hardships, I’m sure. - At the junction we parted.</p> - - <p>“So long, kid. May see you out West next fall - when I make the poultice route.”</p> - - <p>“What’s that?” I asked.</p> - - <p>“That’s southern Utah, kid, the land of milk and - honey. You’re always sure of a big pan of milk and - a fresh loaf of home bread—the poultice route, see? - So long.”</p> - - <hr class="tb"> - - <p>A long, heavy westbound freight train was slowly - pulling out when I got to the railroad yards. A car - of lumber, clean and white, piled halfway to the roof, - the door invitingly open, came along. Nimbly I swung - up and in.</p> - - <p>Inside the car I looked about for a place to secrete - myself. The lumber was about six feet shorter than - the car, which left a large space at one end. I dropped - down into it, took off my coat, and stretched out on - the floor, feeling sure of a long ride. No brakeman - would crawl over that pile of lumber even if he knew - there was a hiding place at one end.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span>Along in the afternoon, after one of the many - stops, I heard a scrambling above and a young fellow - about my own age dropped lightly down beside me. - I had been in the car so long that the half light was - enough. I saw he was ragged and frightfully dirty, - road dirt—coal smoke, cinders, ashes, grease. His - coat, too large for the thin frame, was full of holes - and its lining hung in tatters. His trousers were - greasy and full of hot-cinder holes. His calico shirt - was open in front, his skin was dirty. He was - sharp-eyed and thin-faced. He eyed me wolfishly.</p> - - <p>“How long you been here?”</p> - - <p>“All day.”</p> - - <p>“Where you headin’ for?”</p> - - <p>“Denver.”</p> - - <p>“Got a smoke?”</p> - - <p>“No.”</p> - - <p>He dug a dirty newspaper out of his back pocket, - neatly tore a piece off the border, tearing it downward - with the grain, till he had a piece the size of a - cigarette paper. A search of his coat pocket yielded a cigar - snipe, which he crushed in his hand and then rolled up - in the paper he had held in his mouth.</p> - - <p>“Got a match?”</p> - - <p>“No.”</p> - - <p>He looked at me in disgust, dug up one of his own, - and lit up. The smell of his cigarette was fierce. He - now took off his shoes. One of them was laced with - dirty white string. He had no socks, his feet were - grimy and smelled. His coat came off next; with - it and his shoes he made a pillow and stretched out on - the floor.</p> - - <p>“Won’t the brakeman smell that smoke?” I asked.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span>“To hell with him an’ you,” and he spoke no more. - Finishing his smoke, he adjusted his pillow and went - to sleep. I rolled my coat up, made a pillow, and - dozed. I was afraid he would steal my shoes, so I left - them on.</p> - - <p>Something woke me in the evening. I think it was - the lumber shifting. The train was on a down grade, - the car creaking and rocking. We were in the front - end. Suddenly my companion jumped to his feet. He - looked scared, started to crawl up on top of the - lumber. He was too late. There was a grinding noise, - and a crash. About four feet of the top of the lumber - slid forward against the front end of the car and he - was crushed, flattened between. I was a prisoner - below, unhurt. This shifting of the lumber cut off - the light from the open side door, but its weight - against the end of the car opened up some cracks and - I was soon able to see about me dimly. The boy had - died instantly. His body, from the waist up, was - flattened between the lumber and front end of the - car. His legs dangled below, down where I was - imprisoned, with each movement of the car, like the legs - of a scarecrow in the wind.</p> - - <p>I can’t remember that I was shocked or frightened, - but I do know that as soon as I found I was imprisoned - in that car I got hungry. I hadn’t eaten since - morning and was hungry before the thing happened. But - then I knew I could get out and eat at any stop. Now - I couldn’t, and my hunger became unbearable.</p> - - <p>The place I was in was large as ever, except in - height. The shifting of the lumber had reduced that - to about three feet. I couldn’t stand up. I was in no - danger. The lumber could not shift at the bottom, - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span>the weight of that above was too heavy. I had a - strong pocketknife, and went to work on the side of - the car near the end. The boarding was thin, - weather-rotten, and old. In a couple of hours I had cut - almost through one end of three boards. My hands - were blistered. I sat down and waited till I heard - the whistle blow for a town.</p> - - <p>As the train went into the yards I kicked the boards - loose at the top where they were cut, and pulled them - away from below where they were nailed. This gave - me a hole large enough to crawl out of, which I did, - feet first, pulling my coat after, when she stopped. Up - on the main street I learned I was in Dodge City, - Kansas, a town at that time largely given over to - gambling, fighting, and whisky drinking. I wasn’t - interested in any of those amusements then. I got - something to eat and went to a cheap room for the night. - Tired out, I slept till noon the next day. Then I went - down to the yards to look for another train out. Near - the depot I met a character who looked like a bum. - He gave me a sharp look.</p> - - <p>“Goin’ down in the yards, young feller?”</p> - - <p>“Yes, why?”</p> - - <p>“Better wait till night if you want to make a train. - The railroad bull is hostile. They found a bum dead - in a car of lumber this morning, and they had to tear - the end of the car off to get his body out. He must - have been an awful gay cat to get into the end of a - carload of planed lumber. It’s suicide.”</p> - - <p>I went back uptown and into a lunch counter. The - waiter was idle and talkative.</p> - - <p>“Traveling?” he asked.</p> - - <p>“Yes.”</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span>“Which way?”</p> - - <p>“Denver.”</p> - - <p>“Beating it?”</p> - - <p>“Yes.”</p> - - <p>“Listen here, it’ll take you three or four days to - make Denver that way. You’ll ruin your clothes and - maybe get grabbed off a train and handed thirty days - at Colorado Springs—big chain gang there—they’re - cleaning up the streets. If you can dig up five - dollars I’ll give you a card to a porter on the - Overland to-night. Give him the five and he’ll do - the rest.”</p> - - <p>“Thanks, I’ll try it.”</p> - - <p>I met the train and the porter who took the card - and my five dollars, stowed me away in the linen closet, - and locked the door. I was almost suffocated. Once - in the night he opened the closet. “How you makin’ - out, buddy?”</p> - - <p>“All right,” I said, and the door was locked again. - Next morning he gave me a piece of steak between - slices of bread, and a bottle of coffee. After that I - felt better and dozed in a cramped, sitting position in - a corner.</p> - - <p>That afternoon at Denver I was released, happy, - hungry, cramped, and tired. I rented a cheap room - for a week, went to a barber shop, and had a bath. - I thought twenty-five cents for a bath a rank waste of - money and decided to find a swimming hole. In a - few days I found one.</p> - - <p>There was a sort of camp for bums on the river - bank under some trees. They had their fires there, - and cans for boiling coffee. They used to lie around, - washing and boiling their clothes, and swimming. They - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span>stole chickens around the neighborhood and anything - else they could get.</p> - - <p>One afternoon I was in swimming, when suddenly - there was an alarm and everybody ran. I didn’t pay - any attention to it at first; then I got out of the water - and ran for my clothes. I had just about got them on - when the police arrived and grabbed me.</p> - - <p>They put me into the patrol wagon. I was the only - one they got. Later they picked up one or two others - around in the woods, and took us all down to the jail. - I was scared half to death.</p> - - <p>They put us all in one big room with a lot of other - bums they’d picked up. The police had had a - general order to clean up the town.</p> - - <p>In the morning they took us all up to court. It - was the first time I had been in court. We were all - charged with vagrancy. When my name was called, I - protested. I said, “Judge, you can’t call me a vagrant. - I have twenty dollars down in the jail office.”</p> - - <p>He looked at me as coldly and impersonally as if - I had been a dish of parsnips. “Fifteen days on the - chain gang. Next case.”</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VII</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">I was</span> taken downstairs and locked in a cell; I saw - no more of the “bull pen” where I spent the night. - My cellmate was a handsome, smiling young fellow - about twenty-two or twenty-three. He looked like a - country boy, rugged, red-cheeked, blue-eyed, - sandy-haired. He seemed to be well acquainted in the jail.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span>Some one sang out, “Who’s the fresh fish, ‘Smiler’?”</p> - - <p>“Another vag,” he answered. “Fifteen days.”</p> - - <p>I told him about my case at once. I felt outraged.</p> - - <p>“Forget it, kid. Your fifteen days will be in before - your name’s dry on the commitment. They won’t put - you on the gang. You’ll get a trusty job. I’m just - finishing ten days, haven’t been out of this cell, goin’ out - this afternoon and out of this man’s town, too,” he - smiled. “Let’s eat. You’ve got money in the office. - I’ll send for a messenger.”</p> - - <p>“All right,” I said, “do it.”</p> - - <p>A trusty took my name and our orders. Smiler - ordered tobacco and papers also. A messenger came - in an hour with two meals and the “makings” of - smokes. I signed my name on the check and he was - paid at the office. After we ate, Smiler sang songs, - danced, or stood at the door waiting to be released.</p> - - <p>“I’m going West, kid; hope I see you on the road so - I can return that feed,” he said, when the trusty came - to release him.</p> - - <p>I liked “The Smiler” and wished I could be with - him. In the morning coffee and stale bread were served - in the cells. Fifteen minutes later there was a banging - of doors. Some one shouted “Chain gang.” My - door was opened.</p> - - <p>“Outside, kid,” said a trusty.</p> - - <p>I followed other prisoners down the corridor to a - big, open room where they washed up in running water - at a sink and dried themselves with handkerchiefs. - The trusty came with my hat.</p> - - <p>“You won’t need your coat, kid. I’ll look out for - it.”</p> - - <p>An officer opened a door to the street and stood - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span>inside; another was outside; the chain gang filed out and - climbed into an open wagon with seats on each side - facing each other. A crowd of curious men and boys - stood around the wagon. When my turn came, - instead of getting into the wagon I dashed down the - street, instinctively, like a wild animal. The guards - didn’t chase me for fear the others would escape. The - crowd shouted and cheered me on. I was free.</p> - - <p>There was nothing in my room. I didn’t go near - it. I had no money, and hunger seized me at once. - I walked out of town, walked all day and till dark, - when I found myself exhausted at a bums’ camp twenty - miles away, on the outskirts of a small town. - Confidently I walked up to the fire. I was one of them. - I had escaped; I was hungry; I was ready for - anything; I belonged around the fire. I heard an - exclamation. A form rose up from the fireside and grabbed - me with both hands. It was Smiler.</p> - - <p>“That’s doin’ time, kid, what! Did you beat it? - Where’s your coat?”</p> - - <p>“Yes. My coat’s in the jail.”</p> - - <p>“Take a rest for an hour, and we’ll go up to the - burg. I’ll get you one.”</p> - - <p>On our way into the town he explained. “There’ll - be a train through here about ten o’clock, kid; I’ll kick - in the first private house that looks good. We’ll - surely find a coat and maybe a few dollars and - something to eat if we have time.”</p> - - <p>He looked about sharply at the houses. Across the - street we heard a door slam. A woman and man - came out the front gate, the cottage was dark. We - walked around the block and back to the cottage. - Smiler walked confidently in the front gate, I followed. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span>He rang the doorbell, no answer. We went around to - the back where he found a kitchen window open, - climbed through, and unlocked the door for me.</p> - - <p>“Look around for some chuck, kid, and stay right - there till I come back.” He disappeared. In a minute - or two I could see about me, and explored the - pantry. I found bread and meat and tied them in a - cloth.</p> - - <p>Smiler returned from the front carrying a bundle - of clothes, and we went out. I found a coat that - fitted passably. We left the balance, and departed - unseen.</p> - - <p>The train was pulling in and we made a run to the - water tank where it had to stop, and by the time we - found a car we could get into it was pulling out.</p> - - <p>The lunch was spread out on a paper and quickly - disappeared. Smiler had some cheap jewelry, an old - silver watch, and a few dollars in cash. He divided - the money, and after inspecting the other plunder - threw it out the car door. “That junk would get us - five years, kid, if we got grabbed with it, and it ain’t - worth two dollars.”</p> - - <p>This adventure fascinated me. I gave no thought - to the burglary. It seemed right that I should have - a coat and food. My money was behind in the jail. I - couldn’t buy them. I had stolen them. Somehow I - felt satisfied, as if I had got even with somebody.</p> - - <p>“How do you like this racket, kid?” Smiler asked - as we rolled up our coats for pillows.</p> - - <p>“It’s great. How long have you been doing it?”</p> - - <p>“Oh, a couple of years. Ever since the coppers run - me out of my home town, Detroit. That was a snide - little caper we cut back there and I wouldn’t have - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span>touched it only you had to have a coat. How would - you like to be a prowler, kid?”</p> - - <p>I liked him, always smiling, for his ready help when - I needed it and his companionable ways.</p> - - <p>“I think I would like it; it’s exciting.”</p> - - <p>“All right, kid. When we get to Salt Lake I’ll show - you the real thing.”</p> - - <p>“Good,” I said. “How long will it take us to make - Salt Lake?”</p> - - <p>“About a week at this rate.”</p> - - <p>“Let’s ride the passenger trains,” I said, anxious to - take my first lessons in burglary.</p> - - <p>“We’ll get a passenger train out of Cheyenne, kid, if - we can duck Jeff Carr,” said Smiler. “Never heard of - him? He’s a railroad bull and he’s ‘bum - simple’—simple-minded on the subject of killing bums. If you - run he’ll shoot you; if you stand he’ll get you six - months, and he’d rather have you run.”</p> - - <p>I learned all about Carr later, and his feud with the - bums. They made many efforts to kill him, but never - succeeded. He was later put in charge of the - railroad’s train-robber detail, but he never killed any train - robbers and the bums rambled through Cheyenne in - peace.</p> - - <p>We got a train out without falling foul of the - murderous Carr and rode the baggage into a division point - where there was a twenty-minute stop for dinner. - Looking around for a place to get coffee, we passed a - jewelry store. The jeweler was working at his bench - in front. When we got to the alley, Smiler said: - “We’ll make that tray of watches in the window, kid. - You get a handful of rocks, go around to the back, and - throw them against the jeweler’s door till he opens - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span>it. When he does, I’ll make the front. Don’t throw - them too hard and scare him. Easy—just enough to - make him curious.”</p> - - <p>I followed instructions and was preparing to throw - the fourth rock when the door opened. The jeweler - stepped out and took a good look around. I walked - down the alley to the street, and soon caught up with - Smiler, who was stepping away briskly.</p> - - <p>“We’ve got to plant this junk, kid. We can’t take - chances luggin’ it around.”</p> - - <p>We were in the yards now and Smiler was looking - at the cars curiously as we passed between them. He - stopped beside a car of coal and looked at the card - tacked on it. “Billed to Butte, Montana,” he said, - “this’ll do.” He tied the watches, which he took from - his coat pocket, in a big handkerchief. We climbed up - on the car and the parcel was planted in one corner - and plenty of coal put back on top of it. On the - ground again, Smiler tore off a corner of the - destination card. “Don’t forget that, kid; in case anything - happens to me you’ll know this car.”</p> - - <p>This was all accomplished in less than twenty - minutes, and we had plenty of time to catch our passenger - train, which we did, leaving our plunder behind but - sure to follow.</p> - - <p>“He may not miss that junk till he goes to close - up, kid, or he may have missed it already. Anyway - we’ll sure be stuck up and frisked at Evanston. All - we have to do is tell the truth, say we rode this rattler - out of Cheyenne and never left the yards at Rock - Springs. And they won’t hold us. They can’t figure - that we could touch that joint and go out on the same - train. We’ll stop at Evanston anyway and wait for - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span>our coal car. Then, instead of going to Salt Lake, - we’ll ride the freight over the cut-off to Pocatello and - I’ll get the coin on that junk in an hour from Mary.”</p> - - <p>“Who’s Mary?” I asked.</p> - - <p>“Wait till you see her, to-morrow. She’ll buy - anything from a barrel of whisky to a baby carriage.”</p> - - <p>It was a warm night, and riding the front end of - the baggage was pleasant enough. “If the bulls grab - us off, kid, you say nothing; I’ll talk and tell them who - we are and where we’re going. You listen, that’s all.</p> - - <p>“Say,” he said suddenly, “take off that coat and let - me look at it.” He went over it closely by the light - from the engine. It was tailor-made, and he found - the owner’s name on a piece of white cloth sewed in - the inside pocket. He ripped it out, and I put the - coat on.</p> - - <p>“You never can be too careful, kid. We ought to - have looked at that before. If Jeff Carr had picked - us up at Cheyenne you might have been charged with - that lousy burglary by now.”</p> - - <p>How could a boy help admiring such wisdom? I - was flattered to be taken up by one so experienced, so - confident and active about his work, and withal, so - carefree, happy, and smiling.</p> - - <p>We were not molested at Evanston, where we got - off and waited for our freight train. It came along - next day, and that night we dropped off it at Pocatello, - Idaho.</p> - - <p>Pocatello, at that time, was just a small railroad - town. A famous stopping-off place for the bums - bound East, West, North and South. There was a - grand jungle by a small, clean river where they boiled - up their vermined clothes, or “rags” as they are - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span>always called, cooked their mulligans, or, if enough bums - got together, held a “convention.” These conventions, - like many others, were merely an excuse for a big - drunk. Sometimes they would end in a killing, or - some drunken bum would fall in the fire and get burned - to death, after which they would silently steal away. - Oftener, the convention lasted till there was no more - money for alcohol, the bums’ favorite drink. The - bums then began “pestering the natives” by begging - and stealing till the whole town got sore.</p> - - <p>The town marshal would then appear with a posse - armed with “saps,” which is short for saplings, young - trees. He stood guard with a shotgun, while the - posse fell upon the convention and “sapped up” on - those therein assembled and ran them down the - railroad track and out of town.</p> - - <p>We found our junk without trouble, and hastened - to “Mary’s.”</p> - - <p>If I knew more of composition and writing and - talking I might do justice to Mary, the fence, and - friend of bums and thieves.</p> - - <p>It’s an injustice to the memory of Mary, or, as she - was lovingly called by the bums, “Salt Chunk Mary,” - to try to crowd her into a few paragraphs or even a - chapter. She should have a book.</p> - - <p>“Did you eat yet?” was the first thing you heard - after entering her house. “I have a pot of beans on - the stove and a fine chunk of salt pork in them.” She - invariably produced the beans and “fine chunk of salt - pork” and always ate as heartily of them as any of - her famished guests.</p> - - <p>Her principal business was selling wine, women, - and song to the railroad men and gamblers. She ruled - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span>her half dozen “girls” with a heavy hand. Her house - on the outskirts of the town was a dingy, old - two-story frame building with a couple of rooms added to - one side of it where she lived and received her friends - from the road.</p> - - <p>Smiler knew her and we were welcome. The feed - of beans and salt pork was spread for us. She locked - the door and, while we ate, this most unusual woman - estimated the value of our loot, spread out on one - end of the oilcloth-covered kitchen table where we sat.</p> - - <p>Salt Chunk Mary put no acids on the watches, nor - pried into the works. She “hefted” the yellow ones - with a practiced hand and glanced but once at the - white ones.</p> - - <p>I surveyed her as I ate. She was about forty years - of age, hard-faced and heavy-handed. Her hair was - the color of a sunburned brick, and her small blue eyes - glinted like ice under a March sun. She could say - “no” quicker than any woman I ever knew, and none - of them ever meant “yes.”</p> - - <p>She went into the adjoining room and returned with - a roll of bills. “Four hundred dollars, Smiler.”</p> - - <p>“Good! Give us small bills, Mary.”</p> - - <p>He divided the money equally between us and we - got up to go.</p> - - <p>“Let’s go in and buy a few bottles of beer for the - girls, kid, just by the way of no harm.”</p> - - <p>“No, don’t drag that kid in there—and here’s - something else, listen,” said this plain, blunt woman to - Smiler. “I guess that kid is all right or he wouldn’t - be with you. If I’m grabbed with this junk I’ll rot - in jail before I put the finger on you, and if either of - you gets grabbed (she was looking at me), and thinks - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span>he can get a light jolt by turning me in, he’s wrong. - I’ll throw it in the river, and he can rot in jail.”</p> - - <p>We got a room to rest up, and before going to sleep - decided that Salt Lake was too small for us. San - Francisco was better. Smiler had never been there, - and was as anxious to see it as I. Buying tickets was - throwing money away. So we “beat it” down to - Ogden and over the Southern Pacific, riding the front - end of passenger trains at night, making long jumps, - avoiding bums’ camps, paying for our meals, and - stealing nothing. We got into Sacramento without mishap, - rested up a couple of days, and journeyed along - toward “the city.” We got “ditched” off our train at - Port Costa, and crawled into a hay car for the night. - There were a couple of bums in the car already, and - more came in later and flopped.</p> - - <p>Early next morning we were aroused by a pounding - on the side of the car. “Come on out of there!” - shouted a man with his head in the door, “yez are all - pinched.” We hit the ground, eight of us in all, young - and old, large and small. Two men were outside, - carrying shortened billiard cues.</p> - - <p>“March!” one of them ordered.</p> - - <p>One of the bums started to march and the rest - followed. He seemed to know just what to do and - where to go. A short walk across the tracks brought - us up in front of a big barnlike house with a hotel - sign and broad steps in front. The bum led us straight - up the steps and into a barroom, where he stood up - against the wall opposite the bar. We did the same. - A stout, grayish, red-faced man with a very positive - air was busy serving drinks. He paused and spoke - to one of our captors:</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span>“What have you there, Mike?”</p> - - <p>“Eight bums, judge.”</p> - - <p>He served another round of drinks and turned to - us again.</p> - - <p>“Are you guilty or not guilty?”</p> - - <p>The big bum that led us in immediately answered: - “We’re all guilty, judge, an’ hungry.”</p> - - <p>The judge—and he was no less person than Judge - Casey, famous and celebrated in song and story for - his speedy trials and the human quality of his - justice—waved a short, hairy, muscular arm toward the dining - room.</p> - - <p>“Feed them first, Mike.”</p> - - <p>We followed our leader into the dining room and - all sat at one big table where we had a substantial - breakfast. When the last bum had his fill, we marched - back to the barroom and lined up against the wall - again.</p> - - <p>“All ready, judge,” said Mike.</p> - - <p>The judge stopped dealing drinks and pronounced - sentence. His voice sounded tired, weary; there was a - note of kindness in it.</p> - - <p>“Oh, well, Mike, lave the big bums take tin days, - and the little bums five.”</p> - - <p>He turned to his work. The big bum now led us out - and to a near-by box car that served as a calaboose. - One side door was nailed up and both end doors - fastened outside. We crawled in and the other side door - was shut and padlocked on the outside.</p> - - <p>Smiler sat down in the car and laughed. “What’s - next, I wonder, kid?”</p> - - <p>Some one answered out of the darkness: “They’ll - hook this box car on to the first freight and haul us - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span>over to Martinez, the county seat, an’ slough us in the - county jail.”</p> - - <p>I had told Smiler about cutting myself out of the - car when my companion was killed.</p> - - <p>“Better get busy with your ‘shive,’ kid.” I started - cutting on the side opposite the boarding house. The - bum that pleaded guilty for all of us saw what I was - doing and protested. “Hey, kid, lay off o’ that. You - want to get us all six months, destroyin’ railroad - property?”</p> - - <p>Smiler was on him like a tiger and cuffed him around - till he whined. “Go over in that corner and lie down, - you greasy, big gay cat, or I’ll cut your tail off.” The - bum sat down and stayed quiet. In an hour we kicked - the boards out.</p> - - <p>“You first, kid.”</p> - - <p>I dropped out and Smiler followed. As we dodged - across the yards I looked back. Two more bums had - wriggled out. The other four elected to stay in the - car, too lazy to run away.</p> - - <p>We hid all day under a warehouse and at dark rode - a freight into Oakland where we got the ferry. We - bought new clothes, rented a room, and got cleaned up. - San Francisco fascinated us. We spent days on the - water front watching the ships and sailors, or at - the Cliff House where I first saw the ocean, and in the - park. Our nights were spent about the “Coast,” - Broadway and Pacific Street, at Bottle Koenig’s or the - Bella Union or downtown at Pete Dorsey’s and other - dance halls.</p> - - <p>Gambling was open everywhere; we experimented - and lost. We wasted our money around the shows, - dance halls, and hop joints, which were open and - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span>unmolested by the police. In a month we were - almost broke, and ready for the road. Salt Lake - was decided upon where Smiler had something special - in view.</p> - - <p>An uneventful week on the road put us into Salt - Lake City.</p> - - <p>Then swiftly came the tragic night that separated us - forever—I to jail and the kindly, lovable Smiler to his - grave.</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">There</span> was a legend on the road that the Mormon - Tabernacle in Salt Lake City was a veritable - storehouse of gold, silver, and precious stones and it was - this that lured Smiler back to that city. At that time - a high adobe wall surrounded the block on which stood - the Tabernacle and the then unfinished Mormon - Temple. We looked it over for several days and nights - but could get nothing tangible to work on. Sunday - we attended services and the plate was to be seen, - silver and gold; more than we could carry away if we - got it. At last we decided to go over the wall and give - the place a good reconnaissance. If it looked feasible - we could get a couple of other idle burglars and give - it a thorough looting.</p> - - <p>On top of the wall we pulled up our light ladder - and placed it inside. Smiler went down first. I barely - had my feet off the ladder when a dozen men rose up - out of the shrubbery armed with shotguns, and - surrounded us. We stood still by the wall. One of them - spoke, sternly, evenly: “Go back over that wall.”</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span>Little we knew the Mormons. We went up the - ladder, pulled it up, and went down and away.</p> - - <p>When Smiler’s good humor returned he held up his - hand. “Kid, I’ll never try to rob another Mormon. - I’ll go to work first.”</p> - - <p>The next day we went into a small gambling house - where we hung out to read the papers. We sat at a - table near the big safe in a corner of the room. A man - in overalls was taking the lock apart. The place had - changed hands a few days before and the new - proprietors were having the numbers of the combination - changed. When the mechanic finished his work he - wrote some numbers on two slips of paper. These he - threw on the floor beside his tools and went back to - the bar for a drink. Smiler stooped, picked up the - slips, looked at them closely, and threw them back on - the floor.</p> - - <p>Outside, he said: “We’ve got the combination of - that box, kid. Those two pieces of paper are for the - new proprietors, their new combination.”</p> - - <p>Neither one of us knew enough about safes to feel - sure of opening one even when we had the numbers. - Smiler knew a chap doing time in the penitentiary who - knew all about safes. The “stir” was only a mile out - of the city and we decided to go up and get some - expert advice.</p> - - <p>Next day we visited the expert at the “stir,” who - gladly gave us instructions and declared himself - in with any money we got.</p> - - <p>That night Smiler opened the box as easily as if - it belonged to him and locked it again. We got but - a few hundred dollars where we expected several - thousands. The new owners had no bankroll, just - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span>opened up on a shoestring, hoping to get off lucky and - win. The next morning they accused each other of - the theft, almost fought with pistols, and dissolved - partnership, calling each other thieves.</p> - - <p>The money was split three ways. The expert at the - “stir” took his bit with bad grace, intimating that we - got more than we were dividing, and that we were - thieves. As we were leaving, Smiler said: - “Good-by, ‘Shorty.’ Everything’s all right now, ain’t it?”</p> - - <p>“Oh, sure,” he grouched. “Everything’s all - right—just like Denmark.”</p> - - <p>“Kid, we’ll go up to that joint and give them a - chance to win their money back,” said Smiler. “I feel - lucky.”</p> - - <p>We went up, but they were closed and we had to go - elsewhere to gamble. The habit had fastened on him. - He became a fiend for gambling. When his money - was gone I let him play mine in, and he kept us broke. - In a few days the money from our last venture was - gone, and we were sparring about for more.</p> - - <p>The oldest and commonest system of the house - burglar in locating money and jewelry is to stand about - theaters, cafés, and the better shops, watching their - patrons and following them home if they display - wealth. Smiler and I followed a woman and man to - their home one night from the theater. The woman - wore enough diamonds to stun any thief or - pawnbroker. They went into a well-kept, two-story house, - back in a big yard full of trees and shrubs, only a - dozen blocks from the main street. They let - themselves in with a key and appeared to be the only - occupants of the place.</p> - - <p>We looked the spot over for several days and - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span>evenings. There was a servant girl about the place, - but no children and no dogs. This was good. Children, - particularly young ones, often need attention in the - night, which interferes with the prowler. Dogs, - young or old, are the bane of the burglar’s life. A - dog inside a house where people are sleeping prohibits - burglary, and the smaller he is, the louder he prohibits. - So far as we could see, the place looked made to order - for us. House burglars customarily work - single-handed. Two men prowling about in a house in the - dark are apt to get confused if any one wakes up, and - shoot each other. It has happened.</p> - - <p>“I wish this stool-pigeon moon wasn’t so bright - to-night, kid,” said Smiler as we waited in the shrubbery - for our people to put out lights and retire. At eleven - o’clock the house was in darkness. “About three - hours more, kid, and we’ll get busy.”</p> - - <p>We had been in the yard since nine o’clock, tense, - watching, listening. Six hours lying on the damp grass - and wet from the heavy dew. And still the burglar - wonders how he catches those terrible colds that hang - on and on and finally develop into T.B.</p> - - <p>It was agreed that I should stay outside and lend - a hand in case anything went wrong in the house with - Smiler. Inside the house, inexperienced as I was, I - would be in the way. Smiler looked at his watch for - the hundredth time.</p> - - <p>He removed his shoes, putting one in each hip - pocket as far as it would go, buttoned his coat tightly, - and pulled his hat far down over his eyes. Always - clean, handsome, smiling, he wasn’t good to look at - now. We stepped toward the house, keeping out of - the moonlight when possible. On the rear porch - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span>Smiler tried the door and windows—all fastened. He - motioned me to stay where I was, and disappeared - around the side of the house in search of an unlatched - window. No burglar uses force till he is sure there is - no window or door unfastened.</p> - - <p>He was gone so long that I was getting worried - when he silently appeared from the other side; he - had gone around the house. I left the porch and - joined him beside a window he had found unfastened. - He pointed to some vines near by, where I took my - stand to wait till he rejoined me. I watched him - intently, a pupil, apt at learning. The bottom of the - window was about even with his shoulder. He stood - with arms upraised, hands against the window sash, - slowly, silently pushing it up. I listened, but he made - no sound. The night was calm, still, dead.</p> - - <p>Then came a blinding flash of fire and the deadly - roar of a rifle. Broken glass, falling, tinkled, and a - woman shrieked once hysterically.</p> - - <p>My eyes had never left Smiler. He staggered back - from the window clutching his throat with both hands; - his legs trembled like a spent fighter’s, as he sank - slowly to his knees.</p> - - <p>For a moment I shrank with fear and shock, cold - and helpless, into the vines beside the house. The - flash and deafening explosion coming out of the still - night when my nerves were at their highest tension - petrified me on the spot. Then my legs ran away - with me and I found myself at the back gate to the - alley, the way we came in, fumbling at the latch. My - mind was clearing up now. The gate was open. I - was wondering whether to run up or down the - alley, into the city or out of it. I expected to hear - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span>more shots. Then I thought of Smiler, and looked - back.</p> - - <p>He was there in front of the window in the - moonlight, on his hands and knees now, shaking his head - from side to side slowly.</p> - - <p>There was no alarm yet. The night was calm and - still again. There was the smell of burnt powder in - the air.</p> - - <p>This was my first desperate experience. I didn’t - know what to do. I wanted to run on and save myself - and I wanted to help Smiler. Something—I don’t - know what it was, but I don’t think it was courage - or bravery—turned me around and I ran back through - the shrubbery to a spot opposite the window from - which the shot had been fired. In the clear - moonlight I could see that it was raised about six inches - and one of its lower panes was shattered.</p> - - <p>The house was still in darkness. There was no - sound inside. I must have been in a panic still. No - sane-thinking human would have done what I did next. - I ran out in front of the window to Smiler, and - standing over him, put my arms under his, lifting him slowly - to his feet. Blood was streaming out of his mouth. - He slowly and weakly put one arm around my - neck. I held it there, grasping the hand that hung - limply over my shoulder, and with my other arm - around his waist slowly dragged him to the gate and - out into the alley where he collapsed. His dead weight - was too much for me. I let his body slip gently to the - ground. A twitching shudder ran through him. He - straightened out on his back and threw his arms wide. - He was dead.</p> - - <p>Still no sound came from the house. Next door I - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span>now heard a window thrown up and voices calling, a - light appeared. It seemed an age since the shot was - fired, yet it wasn’t three minutes. Smiler was beyond - my help. I must be off. I was drenched with the - blood that spurted from a wound in his neck. It was - on my face and hands. My shirt front was saturated - with it. My coat was dripping blood. I thought of - our room downtown—no chance to make it in that - condition.</p> - - <p>Smiler’s watch chain glistened in the moonlight. - I tore at his pockets and found his money. I went - through them all, took everything, and ran for blocks - and blocks through the alley toward the outskirts of - the city. The dawn was coming fast. I must hide. - I turned out of the alley into a street and walked on - wondering what to do, where to go.</p> - - <p>A “For Rent” sign on a large, neglected-looking - residence halted me. Not a soul was in sight on the - street. I dodged into the yard, around to the back, - and found the kitchen door unlocked. Inside, I went - into what had been the dining room and sat down on - the floor exhausted, nervous, and covered with blood.</p> - - <p>When it became light enough I explored the old - house, finding nothing but rags and old papers. There - was no water in it and washing was out of the - question. I gathered up an armful of the rags and papers, - making a pallet of them by a window upstairs in a - front room, where I could look out on the street. I - sat down on the pallet and began to think things over. - It was the first good chance since I had left my father. - I heartily wished myself back with him. If this was - adventure I wanted no more of it. I was done with it. - It had brought me to this. Tired, hungry, bloody, - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span>afraid to go to sleep even if I could, lest I should be - found and dragged off to jail and surely convicted. - Smiler was dead. I had no ties to bind me to the road.</p> - - <p>Yes, I would get out of this mess somehow and go - back to my father. I was sorry for poor Smiler and - would have stayed with him on the road, but now it - was different. I felt no remorse for any of the things - we had done. I wasn’t sorry. I didn’t even think they - were wrong. That phase of it never entered my mind.</p> - - <p>Then I fell to thinking of Smiler’s tragic end; trying - to puzzle it out: Why the woman shrieked, why the - house remained so dark and silent, and why I wasn’t - shot when I went to his assistance. There was no - answer to it all. I felt easier in my mind now that I had - decided to quit the road and go home, and longed for - the night to come when I could leave my hiding place - and wash the blood off my hands and face and get - fresh clothes.</p> - - <p>As the day wore on, feeling more secure, I stretched - out on my bed of rags and paper and tried to sleep, - but it wouldn’t come to me. Later, in the afternoon, - I removed my coat and shoes and managed to doze - fitfully till evening. When it was dark enough to walk - through the streets safely I left the house and made - my way to a hot sulphur spring that gushed out of a - hillside a mile away. There I stripped and scrubbed - myself as best I could in the dark, and without soap. - My clothes were stiff with dried blood. I threw the - shirt and underwear away, put my handkerchief about - my neck, and, buttoning my coat, started off in search - of a store where I could get a new outfit.</p> - - <p>Since the night Smiler stole the coat for me we had - never allowed ourselves to get flat broke. With all - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span>his passion for gambling he would hold on to a few - dollars. With the money I found on him and my - own, I counted up thirty dollars. His watch wasn’t - worth two dollars, a cheap one he bought in San - Francisco. I kept it as a memento. There was - nothing else of value in his pockets.</p> - - <p>In a few minutes I found one of the many little - general stores that flourished in Salt Lake at that time, - and purchased a suit, the cheapest one there, for - twelve dollars, and a fifty-cent shirt. I went back to - the spring with my bundle, where I donned the cheap - bullswool suit and threw my good one away. Tired - and hungry, I crawled aboard a street car citybound - from the sulphur springs.</p> - - <p>In the car I looked closely at my hands and saw - there was still some blood around my finger nails; - there were dark spots on my shoes, too. Hungry as - I was, I first went into a barber shop, had a bath, and - scrubbed my shoes. Then to a restaurant, and while - eating I decided to go to our room and have a good - sleep and get a suit of underclothes and a few other - things that I would need on my way home. I turned - the whole thing over in my mind and was sure there - was no danger in going to the room.</p> - - <p>I was sitting at the table nearest the kitchen, - finishing my meal, when a policeman came in and sat - opposite me. The waiter brought a steak which was - ready and waiting for him.</p> - - <p>“Did they identify the dead burglar yet?” the waiter - asked.</p> - - <p>“No, not a thing on him.”</p> - - <p>“How did it happen, anyway?”</p> - - <p>“Just like the morning paper says. The woman’s - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span>husband was called away unexpectedly. The hired - girl had the night out and she was alone in the house, - sleeplessly walking around the rooms when this bird - appeared at the window. Scared half to death she - got her husband’s rifle and fired at him; then she fell - in a faint. When she revived, the neighbors were - called and they got the police. The bird ran as far as - the alley, and dropped dead. The bullet cut an artery - in his neck.”</p> - - <p>From the restaurant I went directly to our room - and to bed, where I slept the sleep of exhaustion till - some time next forenoon, when I was roused by heavy - knocking at my door. When I opened it, two big, - red-faced men shouldered in, told me I was under - arrest, and ordered me to put on my clothes. I washed - and dressed. One of them put handcuffs on me and - made me sit in a chair while they searched the room - without finding anything that interested them.</p> - - <p>The other then produced a bloodstained piece of - paper, and, holding it out before my eyes, said:</p> - - <p>“Did you ever see that before?”</p> - - <p>I looked at it. It was the landlord’s receipt for our - room rent. They had found it in a corner of one of - Smiler’s pockets. Smiler had continually drummed it - into me never to answer any questions in case we were - arrested.</p> - - <p>“Just clam up, kid. Tell them you’d rather not say - anything till you get a lawyer. They might slug you, - but don’t talk; that’s your only salvation.”</p> - - <p>I remembered his advice and said to them as - respectfully as I knew how:</p> - - <p>“You gentlemen have arrested me for something, - I don’t know what. But I would rather not make any - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span>statement till I can see an attorney and get his - advice.”</p> - - <p>The landlord now came to the room.</p> - - <p>“Was this young man in this room night before - last?”</p> - - <p>“The bed wasn’t slept in,” he replied.</p> - - <p>“That’s good, we’ll lock him up. Maybe he’ll talk - then. You come along with us, too. We want you to - identify the dead one.”</p> - - <p>The city jail was but a few blocks away and all four - of us walked there together. They took me inside and - unlocked the handcuffs. A man at a desk asked my - name and age. I was then taken out the back door, - and across a yard into the jail building and locked in a - cell with a solid iron door, in a remote corner of the - building. They didn’t threaten to beat me up, and - asked no more questions. A jailer came at noon with - a trusty, who put a pan of very good stew, a tin cup - of coffee, and half a loaf of bread in the cell.</p> - - <p>I said to the jailer: “Mister, could I see a lawyer?”</p> - - <p>He shut the door and locked it without answering - me. The door wasn’t opened again till midnight. I - was lying awake on a bunk fighting bedbugs in the - dark. It seemed they were trying to eat me alive.</p> - - <p>“Step out here, young man.”</p> - - <p>I stepped out in my stocking feet.</p> - - <p>“Put your shoes on, and come with us.”</p> - - <p>They were the same two men that arrested me. - They took me out and up the streets into the next block - where we stopped at an undertaker’s. They led me to - a back room and up beside a table on which a figure - was lying, covered by a long, sheetlike, white cloth. - I stood there beside the table between the two officers - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span>for a moment. Then, suddenly, one of them snatched - the sheet away from the upper part of the figure. The - other shook me violently and shouted:</p> - - <p>“Did you ever see that man before?”</p> - - <p>I knew Smiler was there before he snatched the - sheet off. When we went into the undertaker’s I felt - they were going to show me his body, but I couldn’t - understand why. I learned later that some people are - unnerved at the sudden sight of a gruesome corpse, - and, weakening, talk.</p> - - <p>It hurt me to look at Smiler, his smile forever gone, - changed to a hideous, snarl-like grin, and a gaping - hole in his throat.</p> - - <p>I couldn’t think of anything else, so I said: “I want - to see an attorney, please.”</p> - - <p>“You’ll get a lawyer when we get done with you. - You were with that fellow when he was shot and we - are going to charge you with an attempt to commit - burglary if you don’t tell us where you were night - before last.”</p> - - <p>I was locked up again.</p> - - <p>The following day the two officers took me out to - the booking desk where I was formally charged, and - on the morning of the third day I went into the police - court for my hearing. One of the shyster lawyers, or - “stir steerers,” as the bums call them, came over to - me.</p> - - <p>“They tell me you want a lawyer,” pointing to the - officers.</p> - - <p>“Yes, I do.”</p> - - <p>“Got any money, or friends?”</p> - - <p>“I’ve got fifteen dollars in the office—and no - friends.”</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span>“Give me an order for the money, and I’ll look - after you,” he said.</p> - - <p>I gave him the order, he spoke to the two officers - for a minute, and then asked the judge for a - continuance of twenty-four hours. This was granted, and I - was led back to the bedbugs in the dark cell.</p> - - <p>The next day, when my case was called, the lawyer - stood up and started talking.</p> - - <p>“Sit down!” roared the judge.</p> - - <p>He obeyed.</p> - - <p>A woman wearing a thick veil was called. I could - not distinguish her features. In a few words she - told of shooting a man at her window. She saw but - one man, the one she shot. She was excused and - hastily left the courtroom.</p> - - <p>My landlord was called, and testified that I was the - roommate of the dead burglar; that I was not in the - room the night he was killed, and when I appeared - the following night I had on a different, a new suit.</p> - - <p>The officers testified that they arrested me in the - room and that I had refused to make any statement. - The prosecutor stood up.</p> - - <p>“Officer, when you accused this defendant of being - an accomplice of the dead man, did he deny it?”</p> - - <p>“No, sir, he did not.”</p> - - <p>The prosecutor looked wise, and sat down with a - satisfied air—as if I had been found guilty.</p> - - <p>“Anything more?” asked the judge.</p> - - <p>The prosecutor got up again. “It’s as plain as the - nose on your face, Your Honor. The dead man and - this chap went out to rob that house. When the other - fellow was shot, this chap tried to help him away, but - he was too far gone. Then, what did he do?</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span>“Your Honor,” he said, ominously pointing a finger - at me, “he robbed his dead companion. The dead - man’s pockets were turned inside out. But in his - haste this man overlooked this—this telltale - blood-soaked receipt,” and he waved it about with great - effect.</p> - - <p>The judge frowned at me. The courtroom chair - warmers craned necks in my direction.</p> - - <p>“What about that new suit he has on?” continued - the prosecutor. “He either bought it or stole it since - the shooting. Why? Because the suit he wore that - night had blood on it. Blood, Your Honor, blood,” - he finished hoarsely.</p> - - <p>I looked down at my shoes, wondering if the - wizard was going to point out the dark spots on them that - I hadn’t succeeded in scrubbing off entirely.</p> - - <p>“Anything for the defense?” inquired the judge.</p> - - <p>“We waive our defense,” said the “stir-steerer.” - He left the room, and luckily I never saw him.</p> - - <p>“Defendant held to await the action of the grand - jury.”</p> - - <p>I was led away.</p> - - <p>It was a relief to get into the county jail, away from - the bedbugs. It was clean. I was put in a cell with a - fine old Mormon farmer, charged with - polygamy—unlawful cohabitation, to use the legal phrase. He - was well supplied with tobacco and food, from friends - outside, which he shared with me. We were confined - to the cells all the time, and I made no acquaintances - while there. I did not try. I was much discouraged at - this turn of things against me, but was still hopeful of - getting out and returning to my father.</p> - - <p>“You’ve been indicted by the grand jury,” said - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span>the jailer one morning, some three weeks later, “and - to-day you go up to the ‘big house.’”</p> - - <p>Utah then was a territory and all persons indicted - were at once transferred to the custody of the United - States marshal who, in addition to his other duties, - acted as warden of the territorial penitentiary. An - hour later I was taken out of my cell and turned over - to a big, rawboned man with a worn pistol swinging - from a holster on his belt.</p> - - <p>“Young feller, I don’t put irons on none of ’em,” - he said to me, tapping his gun. “Ef you want ter run, - that’s yore business.”</p> - - <p>In an hour I was at the penitentiary, where I made - friends and incurred obligations that turned my - thoughts away from home and sent me back on the - road.</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IX</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">To</span> say I was shocked, stunned, or humiliated on - entering the penitentiary would not be the truth. It - would not be true in nine cases out of any ten. It would - be true if a man were picked up on the street and taken - directly to a penitentiary, but that isn’t done. He is - first thrown into a dirty, lousy, foul-smelling cell in - some city prison, sometimes with an awful beating in - the bargain, and after two or three days of that - nothing in the world can shock, stun, or humiliate him. He - is actually happy to get removed to a county jail where - he can perhaps get rid of the vermin and wash his - body. By the time he is tried, convicted, and sentenced, - he has learned from other prisoners just what the - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span>penitentiary is like and just what to do and what to - expect. You start doing time the minute the - handcuffs are on your wrists. The first day you are locked - up is the hardest, and the last day is the easiest. There - comes a feeling of helplessness when the prison gates - swallow you up—cut you off from the sunshine and - flowers out in the world—but that feeling soon wears - away if you have guts. Some men despair. I am - sure I did not.</p> - - <p>Inside the prison I was brought before a convict - clerk who took my name, age, and nativity. I lied - about them all. I couldn’t cheat the scales or a - measuring machine, and they got my correct weight and - height. I did screw my face up a little when I was - photographed, and felt good about it. My clothes - were not taken, nor was my hair cut. I had a bath - and was turned loose in the yard where there were - about one hundred prisoners, some, like myself, in - outside clothes awaiting trial, and others in convict - stripes doing time. The penitentiary was small then. - There was no work except farming and gardening, - which was all done by “cohabs,” Mormons convicted - of unlawful cohabitation, and a very decent lot of men - they were, never complaining of persecution, always - ready to help their fellow prisoners, and freely - dividing the food, money, and tobacco with which they were - well supplied by friends and relatives.</p> - - <p>The other prisoners played poker all day in the - yard on blankets, and occasionally a game of - baseball, when they could get up enough ambition. The - food was fair. There was no discipline. Prisoners - were expected to appear at their cells at evening - to be locked in, and to stay in them till they were - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span>let out in the morning. They didn’t always do that. - In prison parlance, the place was a “playhouse.”</p> - - <p>The first man to speak to me in the yard was - Shorty, the safe expert we had visited. He came - directly up to me and put out his hand. “Kid, that was - tough about Smiler. I wanted to see you both and - apologize. I thought you put me in the hole for - some coin, but I found out that the people lost - just what you both said. I couldn’t imagine a - gambling house with a six-hundred-dollar bankroll.”</p> - - <p>Shorty was one of the patricians of the prison, a - “box man” doing time for bank burglary. “I’ll put - you in with the right people, kid. You’re folks - yourself or you wouldn’t have been with Smiler.”</p> - - <p>I had no friends in the place. But the fact that I - had been with Smiler, that I had kept my mouth shut, - and that Shorty had come forward to help me, gave - me a certain fixed status in the prison that nothing - could shake but some act of my own. I was naturally - pleased to find myself taken up by the “best people,” - as Shorty and his friends called themselves, and - accepted as one of them.</p> - - <p>Shorty now took me into the prison where we - found the head trusty who was one of the “best - people” himself, a thoroughgoing bum from the road. - The term “bum” is not used here in any cheap or - disparaging sense. In those days it meant any kind of a - traveling thief. It has long since fallen into disuse. - The yegg of to-day was the bum of twenty years - ago.</p> - - <p>“This party,” said Shorty, “is one of the ‘Johnson - family.’” (The bums called themselves “Johnsons” - probably because they were so numerous.) “He’s good - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span>people and I want to get him fixed up for a cell with - the right folks.”</p> - - <p>“Why don’t you go out and see George and his - outfit? There’s an empty bunk in their cell.”</p> - - <p>We hunted up “George and his outfit.” They knew - all about me apparently, for George said, “Sure, put - him in with us. If you don’t they’ll only stick some - gay cat in there and we’d have to throw him out in - the middle of the night.”</p> - - <p>“What have they got on you, kid?” asked George.</p> - - <p>I sat down with them all and went over the whole - thing from the shooting of Smiler to my arrival at the - prison.</p> - - <p>“And you’ve made no statement yet?”</p> - - <p>“No.”</p> - - <p>“Not even to the shyster?” George inquired.</p> - - <p>“Not even to the shyster,” I replied.</p> - - <p>George turned to the others. “He’ll beat that - case.”</p> - - <p>“Sure, he will,” they all said.</p> - - <p>“Judge Powers can beat that case before lunch - any day,” said Shorty.</p> - - <p>“How’s he going to get the judge to defend him? - He hasn’t a dime, and you’re talking about the best - lawyer in the state,” George wanted to know.</p> - - <p>It was Shorty’s time to get superior now. “Where - did I get that two hundred dollars that’s out in the - office? Didn’t him and Smiler bring it up here to me - for my end of that chippy gambling house’s bankroll. - The judge will take this case for a hundred; it’s only - an hour’s work for him.”</p> - - <p>George smiled. “Shorty, I knew damned well you’d - do that,” and to me, “Kid, that’s what comes of bein’ - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span>on the square. If you’d burnt Shorty for his end - of that coin, you’d have been here just the same, and - you’d have got a beatin’ instead of a lawyer and a lot - of good advice from real people.”</p> - - <p>My case was disposed of right there. I had an - attorney. But the bums had already tried me and I was - found not guilty. All I had to do was wait for the day - to come and I would be free. I was very grateful to - them all, and tried to tell them. “Aw, forget it,” they - said.</p> - - <p>“You can pay me the money when you get out and - are lucky,” said Shorty. “I’ll send for Judge Powers - in the morning.”</p> - - <p>At supper time I fell in line with my new friends - and ate at the same table, after which we marched to - our cells and were locked in. These scheming yeggs - had managed to get possession of the most desirable - cell in the prison, probably by bribing the trusty - prisoner whose duty it was to look after the cell house. - On each side of the cell was a framework ingeniously - made of angle iron that contained two bunks, one above - the other. The mattresses were filled with clean straw, - the blankets were new and clean. George gave me a - small feather pillow. In the center of our cell at the - upper end was a table on which stood a fine Rochester - oil lamp that gave plenty of light. Newspapers were - produced, and the “best people” settled themselves for - the evening.</p> - - <p>George, who by reason of his age and experience - was “captain of the outfit,” explained to me that, being - the last man in the cell, it was my duty to empty the - slop bucket in the morning and sweep out.</p> - - <p>I must stop to describe briefly my three cellmates, all - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span>persistent and professional criminals, because of their - influence on my after life.</p> - - <p>A name on a prison register doesn’t usually mean - anything. Although I knew George well later, I never - learned from him his family name or birthplace. - To ask about those things in the underworld is to - invite suspicion. All criminals conceal them carefully - and resent questions. George was known on the road - and to the police as “Foot-and-a-half George” because - of an injury to one of his feet that cost him a couple - of toes and caused a slight limp. It happened in this - way, as he told me one night when we were waiting - to open up the powder house at a rock quarry and - get a supply of fresh dynamite, caps and fuse.</p> - - <p>“I always crush into these powder shacks for my - ‘puff’ for two reasons; first, it’s always in good - condition; second, if you buy it you’ve got to leave your - mug with the storekeeper. He’s always suspicious of - anybody buying explosives and is apt to remember - you and cause trouble later in case of a pinch.</p> - - <p>“I got this bum foot,” he said, sticking it out, - pointing to the shoe with its bent-up toe, “through buying - a roll of rotten fuse at an out-of-the-way general store - in Montana. I was goin’ against ‘P.O.’s’ then. I - always favored post offices because in the small - country ones the postmaster has to furnish the box himself - and gets the cheapest one he can find. He don’t care - because the government stands the loss if it’s a plain - burglary from the outside.</p> - - <p>“Besides that, you’re a cinch to get some coin and - a bundle of stickers out of every ‘P.O.’ You can - peddle the stamps anywhere at sixty or eighty per cent - and they can’t be identified. Then again, if you do - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span>fall, the government don’t hang a lot of prior - convictions on you and bury you. The limit for a ‘P.O.’ - is five years and you never get that if you use a little - judgment. Yes, I’m strong for the government,” - mused the veteran, reflectively.</p> - - <p>“This caper I’m tellin’ you about was a third-class - ‘P.O.’ outside of Butte, Montana. It was soft, and - good for a few hundred dollars so I decided to go - against it alone. No use takin’ a bunch of thirsty - bums along and stealin’ money for them to slop up in - some saloon the next day. Anyway, I had a hole in - the old box an’ a shot in it in half an hour. I strung - the fuse to a window and touched it off from the - outside. It spluttered along the floor and up to the door - of the box, but nothing happened. After a few - minutes I went back inside to put on a fresh piece of fuse. - Just as I got in front of the box there was a roar, - the door came off, and knocked me flat. The edge - of it caught my foot on the floor and smashed all the - toes.”</p> - - <p>“Did you get the coin?”</p> - - <p>“You’re damn right, I did.</p> - - <p>“After my wind came back I got the coin and - stickers, limped outside where I had an old ‘swift’ - tied to a hitching rack. I had no saddle and it was - a tough ride into Silver Bow Junction. But I got there - before daylight and grabbed a rattler into Pocatello - where ‘Salt Chunk Mary’ put me away, got a doctor, - and got rid of my ‘stickers.’ That’s why I’m so - particular about my fuse,” he concluded.</p> - - <p>This grizzled old yegg was a by-product of our - Civil War. Apprentice to a village blacksmith, he - was drafted into the army, where he learned the - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span>disruptive force of powder, and many other things - useful to him in his profession of safe breaking. His - rough war service, his knowledge of mechanics and - explosives combined to equip him for what he - became—one of the pioneers of safe breaking. From black - powder he turned to dynamite and afterward was one - of the first to “thrash out the soup”—a process used - by the bums and yeggs for extracting the explosive - oil, nitro glycerine, from sticks of “dan” or dynamite. - He boasted that he had never done a day’s work - outside of prison since he was mustered out of the army, - except one year in a safe factory in the East where - he went deliberately and worked for starvation wages - to learn something of the construction of a very much - used make of safe and its lock. Fortified with this - knowledge, he followed that particular make of safe - to many parts of the world, and, as he said, “knocked - ’em open like ripe watermelons.”</p> - - <p>George inherited a very ordinary set of features to - start with. His war scars and rough bouts on the - road and in prison hadn’t served to add anything - to them in the way of refinement. His head rose - to a point from all four sides. The “Sanctimonious - Kid,” one of my cellmates, once said of George: - “If you were to put a dime on the top of George’s - head and start it sliding down the back it would fall - inside his shirt collar; if you started it down his - forehead it would wind up in his mouth, his lower jaw - sticks out so far.” His eyes were small and cunning. - They looked as if they had been taken out, fried in - oil, and put back. Dead, pale blue and - expressionless, they gave no hint of the cunning, always-busy - brain behind them. His nose wasn’t worth looking - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span>at, just a small knob of soft red flesh, long since - collapsed and hanging like a pendant from between his - eyes. He was of medium height, broad, heavy and - rugged. With all his ill-favored appearance and his - rolling, limping walk that seemed to start at his - shoulders and work its way down into his legs, he had a - heart of gold and oak, and knowing him one readily - forgave him ungovernable temper and violent - outbursts of rage. He was square. His life was stormy - and his death sudden and violent as “Smiler’s.” But - that has another place in this story.</p> - - <p>The “Sanctimonious Kid” was, in point of years - and experience, second to George, and naturally - second in say in the cell. All matters of importance were - submitted to George first, then to “Sanc” and lastly - to “Soldier Johnnie,” the third man. Nothing was - submitted to me. I had no say about anything. All - I had to do was to keep my mouth shut and listen all - I wanted to.</p> - - <p>“Sanc” had everything that George lacked. Tall, - six feet, slender and soft stepping, more active than - most men half his size, you would not suspect him of - two hundred pounds, solid flesh and bone. Straight - without stiffness, natural, like an Indian. Dark hair, - eyes and skin. Handsome, intelligent. Years after, - I saw him in the dock of a crowded court room in a - big city. His head was the finest, his face the - handsomest, and his poise the surest of any there, from - the judge down to the alternate juror. His nose, eyes - and forehead might have been those of a minister or - divinity student. But there was a hard look about - his mouth, and something in his jaw that suggested - the butcher. He was educated and a constant reader. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>Whether it was his appearance or his careful manner - of speech that got him his monoger, “The - Sanctimonious Kid,” I never knew. He was serving a short - sentence for house burglary, at which he was an - expert.</p> - - <p>We traveled together for several years after he - was released, and I found him one of the squarest - and most resourceful thieves I ever knew. At last, - after one of the cleverest prison escapes on record, - he went to Australia where he was hanged for the - murder of a police constable.</p> - - <p>“Soldier Johnnie,” who had served a term in the - army, was the youngest of the three. He was an - industrious and trustworthy yegg who made his living - serving as “target” or outside man, for the yegg mobs - that preyed on country banks. The “target” is the - most reliable man in the mob. To him is given the - job of sticking up the town bull if he appears while - the others are inside. He is the first one to get shot - at and the last. It’s his job to carry the heavy - artillery and stand off the natives while the others get the - coin, and then to cover the get-away.</p> - - <p>He was born lucky. His face and figure were - neutral. A hard man to pick up on his description. - Medium size and weight. After one look at him you - couldn’t say whether his hair was brown or black, - whether his eyes were gray or blue. Quiet, - unobtrusive, soft-spoken, a copper would hesitate before - halting him on the street.</p> - - <p>Such were my companions, guides, friends and - philosophers, day and night, till the day of my trial, - which soon came.</p> - - <p>Shorty’s letter to Judge Powers brought one of his - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span>office men out to see me the next day, who got the - points in my case and went away with one hundred - dollars of Shorty’s money. I felt better after his - visit, he was so fresh, vigorous, confident. “Nothing - to it, young man,” he said breezily, “I’ll be in court - when you appear to plead and have a day set for your - trial; that is, if they want to waste their time trying - you.”</p> - - <p>I went back into the prison yard with his card in - my hand and gave it to Shorty. He passed it to - George and then to “Sanc.”</p> - - <p>“I know him,” Sanc said. “He is in Powers’ firm. - Powers will tell him what to do. You are all right. - True, he is but a second-class man, but that’s not so - bad. These second-class lawyers can skin a first-class - bunko man any day in the week. I see no reason why - he cannot skin a third-class judge in a territorial - court.”</p> - - <p>I soon saw that these three cellmates of mine - practically controlled the inside of the prison. They had - brains and character backed by courage and the - valuable background of a reputation for doing things - outside.</p> - - <p>I say they had character because, while they did - wrong things, they always tried to do them in the right - way and at the right time. The thief who goes out - and steals money to pay back room rent rather than - swindle his poor landlady has character. The one - who runs away without paying her has no character. - The thief who holds out a lady’s watch on his pal to - give to his girl has no character.</p> - - <p>In the underworld one has good or bad character - as in any other layer of society. The thief who pays - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>off borrowed money, debts, or grudges has a good - character among his fellows; and the thief who does - the reverse has a bad character. Thieves strive for - good character and make as great sacrifices to keep - it as men do anywhere else. A burglar can have - friends, but he has to pay his room rent or he will - lose them, and they will despise him.</p> - - <p>Because of this quality these three men had money - in the prison office, sent them by friends at liberty.</p> - - <p>They had visitors frequently, who kept them well - supplied with books and magazines. The evening - mail brought newspapers from many cities. They - kept well informed, particularly about criminal and - legal doings. The papers were carefully read at - night, and the next morning “routed” throughout the - prison till, torn and read ragged, they found their way - into the hands of the lowliest “bindle stiff” in the - farthest corner of the yard.</p> - - <p>There were fat times when we didn’t go into the - dining room for a week. A half-gallon bucket of milk - was left at the cell every evening. Loaves of fresh, - hot bread were smuggled up from the bakeshop, and - juicy steaks from the guards’ quarters. These - creature comforts helped to take the curse off the place, - and mitigate the prison pangs. Our light was put out, - not when the nine o’clock bell rang, but when George, - or Sanc, or Johnnie felt like going to sleep. The - guards looked the other way when they went by in - their felt-soled shoes, on their night rounds through - the prison.</p> - - <p>In the prison yard there was a deep well from which - water for bathing and other uses was pumped to a - large tank on the prison roof. The pump was manned - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span>by four prisoners who had to work in one-hour shifts. - A gang of eight men were detailed each week for this - work, which was not hard—nothing more than - exercise—and no one ever complained. My name was - called one Saturday evening and I was instructed to - report at the pump the following Monday morning. I - thought nothing of it, and would have pumped - cheerfully. But that night “Soldier Johnnie,” who was - something of a jail lawyer and agitator for his and his - friends’ rights, remarked that they were wrong in - forcing me to work because I had not been convicted of - any crime and that I ought to refuse to do it. The - other two took the matter up and it was argued pro - and con. They were pretty technical about it, and - the weight of opinion was that it would be establishing - a dangerous precedent for an unconvicted man to do - any work of any kind in the prison and a test case - should be made of it.</p> - - <p>I was willing enough, and, looking back at it now, - I believe I was glad of the chance to do something to - raise myself in the estimation of these distinguished - characters.</p> - - <p>Monday morning I refused to work, explaining to - the officer in charge that I was not lazy, but felt they - had no right to order me to work before I was - convicted. He appeared surprised, and took me to the - office of the prison captain. He heard me out, and - turning to the guard, said: “Throw this fresh kid in - the cooler and leave him there till he gets ready to - work.”</p> - - <p>I was given an old pair of overalls and a cotton - shirt to wear in the “cooler,” where my outside clothes - would have been ruined. The cooler or dark cell was - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span>the same as other cells, except that there was nothing - in it and the door was solid, admitting no light. The - floor and walls were of thin steel and very cold. I - slept on the floor without any kind of bedding or cover. - There was but one fixture in the cell, a sheet-metal - bucket smelling strongly of chloride of lime. My - sentence carried the further punishment of bread and - water, one thick slice a day and about a quart of water.</p> - - <p>A guard opened the cell in the afternoon the first - day and put in a quart tin cup of water but no bread. - As he was closing the cell, he said, not unkindly: - “You’re a damned fool, kid. You’d better weaken - and promise to go on the pump. I’ll tell the captain - now, if you want, and you won’t have to freeze in - here to-night.”</p> - - <p>“No, I won’t weaken,” I declared.</p> - - <p>“All right, but if you change your mind just rap on - the door with that tin cup.”</p> - - <p>My teeth were chattering before nine o’clock that - night, it was so cold. I could not sleep on the cold - steel floor and walked up and down in my stocking - feet all night. The next morning it became warmer - and I slept in fits till noon when the guard came with - my bread and a fresh cup of water. The bread was - about half eaten when something got between my - teeth that made me stop chewing, hungry as I was.</p> - - <p>I examined it, lying on my belly at the bottom of - the door, where there was a crack of light. It was - a piece of chicken quill about an inch long. I couldn’t - imagine how it got into the bread, and out of curiosity - and having nothing else to do, I broke it apart. There - was a tightly rolled piece of paper inside, on which - was written: “Stick. We’ll feed you to-night.” - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span>There was no name, no explanation. I knew it was - from my cellmates, and put in the balance of the day - trying to figure how they would manage to get food - into that tight cell in plain view of a guard all day - and night.</p> - - <p>The cell above me was part of the prison proper, - and was occupied by two prisoners doing time. That - afternoon I heard unusual noises in it, and they - indicated that some one was moving out or in. - Immediately after “lockup” in the evening there was another - new noise. Prisoners in dungeons rely almost entirely - on sounds to tell them what is going on about them. - Every sound has its meaning. No sound escapes them, - and any new or unusual sound must be thought out and - classified at once.</p> - - <p>The sound that attracted my attention was a low, - grinding rasping that seemed to come from the floor - of the cell above, which was the roof of my cell. One - person above walked back and forth with his shoes - on, making considerable noise. Something very - unusual. The rasping became more distinct, and after - an hour’s thought I concluded that somebody up above - was boring a hole through the thin steel floor and that - the walking was to cover the noise of drilling and to - keep watch for the guard. Before nine o’clock there - was an inch hole in the floor, and strips of tender meat, - long pieces of bread, toasted to hold them together, - cigarettes, and matches were being lowered into my - cell. After them came a long, thin piece of rubber - hose, from which I sucked about a quart of strong - coffee.</p> - - <p>I spent about three weeks in the cooler and never - missed my evening meal. My cellmates bribed the - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span>night guard to give me a blanket at night, which he - took away from me before he went off watch in the - morning, to protect himself. All in all, I didn’t fare - so badly and was getting pretty well settled down to - life in the dark cell when they took me out one - evening and sent me back to my cell with instructions - to be ready in the morning to go to court. I found - my clothes in good shape and a clean shirt had been - procured for me by my cellmates.</p> - - <p>They seemed to think they owed me an apology for - not being able to get food into the dark cell until - the second night, explaining in great detail how they - had to get two gay cats moved out of the cell above - me and have two members of the “Johnson family” - put in it, who would attend to the matter. I was - instructed by them to ask for an immediate trial; the - captain had declared that he would keep me in the - cooler till I either got acquitted or went to work - pumping.</p> - - <p>The next morning the man from Judge Powers’ - office was in court and told me to plead not guilty. - When this formality was done with, he asked for a - trial on the earliest possible date, saying that it would - not take more than two hours to try the case.</p> - - <p>“Two hours,” said the judge, looking over his - calendar, “how would the day after to-morrow do?”</p> - - <p>There was no objection from either side. The case - was set for trial. I went back to the prison and into - the cooler. That evening my rations came down as - usual. The guard gave me my blanket, but I couldn’t - sleep. Everybody was confident I would be acquitted, - but I was afraid. I remembered my experience in - Denver when the judge gave me fifteen days without - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span>a hearing, and at Port Costa when Casey gave us ten - days. I imagined the procedure would be about the - same in this case and was very uneasy.</p> - - <p>The next evening I was sent back to my cell. I - found plenty to eat waiting me, and after a good - supper my case was tried by my cellmate lawyers. They - threshed it out from every conceivable angle, and - declared that if I got convicted I would have to do - it myself on the witness stand. They were so sure - I wouldn’t come back that George gave me a - ten-dollar bill.</p> - - <p>“Take that, Kid, you’ll need it. You can send it - back when you feel able.”</p> - - <p>I promised to write them, and we agreed on a - fictitious name for me to use. They all shook hands, - bade me good-bye, and sent me away in high hopes.</p> - - <p>Judge Powers himself was in court the next - morning. A fine, tall, gray, elderly gentleman, he patted - me on the back in a fatherly manner.</p> - - <p>“Young man, I am going to put you on the witness - stand and ask you one question: ‘Are you guilty or - not guilty of this charge?’ You answer ‘No,’ and - don’t answer any other questions from anybody unless - I tell you to.”</p> - - <p>The jury was drawn in ten minutes. The witnesses - that testified at the police court came on in the same - order and gave the same testimony. Judge Powers - asked the veiled woman we were preparing to rob if - she had seen me at her house on the night in - question or on any other night. She answered that she - saw but one man, the one she shot. The detectives - confined themselves to the truth. Powers looked at - his watch with the air of a busy man being detained - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span>over a trifling matter, and dismissed them without - cross-examination. He waved the landlord off the - stand without questioning him. When the prosecutor - said: “That’s our case, Your Honor,” Powers looked - at him, and then to the jury.</p> - - <p>“Is that all?” he asked, frowning.</p> - - <p>I was put on the witness stand and answered “No” - very positively to his question. The prosecutor hadn’t - anything to cross-examine me about. He started a few - questions, but was stopped and gave up. My attorney - made some motion and was overruled. He then offered - to let the case go without argument from either side, - but the prosecutor wanted to talk and the judge told - him to go ahead.</p> - - <p>He argued about the same as the prosecutor in the - police court, waved the bloody room-rent receipt and - harped about the change of clothes and my absence - from the room, and my refusal to make any - statement. He dingdonged away till the judge ordered - him to stop.</p> - - <p>Judge Powers went over the case in five minutes, - the jury was instructed in five more, and went away - to the jury room. I was nervous. I thought my - attorney had not asked enough questions, hadn’t - argued enough. The judge went into his chambers. - Judge Powers followed him in for a visit. A few - courtroom hangers got up and went out. Nobody - paid any attention to me. The bailiff who had me in - charge strolled about the room, gossiping. There was - no dock in the courtroom. I was sitting outside the - railed-off enclosure at the attorneys’ table. The jury - hadn’t been out fifteen minutes, but I was so nervous - I couldn’t sit still, and got up to stretch my legs. The - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span>bailiff was busy talking to a man who came in from - the street. His back was turned to me as I walked - a few steps up the aisle in the direction of the door, - and then back.</p> - - <p>The next time I walked farther toward the door - before turning, and still he never looked at me. The - third time I went to the door and out, and oozed - down the broad, single flight of stairs into the main - street. Dodging between two hacks at the curb I - crossed to the opposite side of the street and looked - back up the stairway to the courtroom—no alarm yet. - Directly in front of me was a basement restaurant. - I went downstairs, straight through the dining room - to the kitchen, into the back yard, and then to the - alley without being molested. When I got out of - the alley I turned every corner I came to for fifteen - minutes and finished in the railroad yards, instinctively.</p> - - <p>The whistles were blowing for twelve o’clock, noon. - I saw no signs of any outgoing trains and decided to - plant myself somewhere nearby till night, when I could - get a train or walk out of town in safety. I found - an old deserted barn and hid up in the loft, hungry - and thirsty, till dark.</p> - - <p>A passenger train was due out on the Rio Grande - at eight. With much caution I made my way along - between lines of box cars till I got near enough to the - depot to get aboard the blind end of a baggage car. - I held the train all night, carefully dodging about at - every stop.</p> - - <p>At daylight, as the train slowed down for a stop, - a man climbed up beside me. “You’re arrested,” he - shouted, tapping a big gun in its holster.</p> - - <p>I was discouraged. After all my hiding and - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span>dodging and starving, I must now go back to Salt Lake. - He took me off the train and held my arm as the - train pulled out. I was scared and desperate. I - could see the penitentiary opening up for me again, - and the dungeon. As the last coach was even with us, - I gave the constable, that’s who he was, a vicious - push and he fell into a ditch beside the track.</p> - - <p>The train was moving fast now, but with a - tremendous effort I clutched one of the handbars and - the momentum threw me up on the rear steps. Just - as I landed, one of the trainmen opened the rear door - and saw me. He had his mouth open to say - something when he saw the constable crawling out of the - ditch, firing his pistol in the air and making signs to - him. He pulled the bell cord.</p> - - <p>As the train slowed down two more trainmen - appeared and the three began kicking me. I jumped - off and fell into the hands of the constable, who came - up reënforced by some natives from the depot. They - all fell on me and gave me an unmerciful skull - dragging. After they got done scruffing me around, two - of them took me by each arm and the constable - fastened both hands in my coat collar from behind. The - ones that couldn’t find a place to lay hold on me - surrounded us, a tribe of small boys appeared from - nowhere, and I was dragged, pushed, and bumped - across the fields to the village and thrown into the jail.</p> - - <p>When I was safely locked in, the constable mopped - his forehead with his sleeve, and, shaking his fist at - me, said: “Sure as God made little apples I’ll see - that you get ten days.” They all went away then - except the small boys. They lingered around all - afternoon peeping in at the windows.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span>It was a mail-order jail—two steel cells on a - concrete foundation. A cheap wooden shack had been - built around the cells to keep the weather out. The - door of the shack was always open and there was - plenty of light. The cell they put me in was clean, - and there was a roll of new blankets in it. I was the - only prisoner.</p> - - <p>I unrolled the blankets and, stretching out on the - floor, tried to figure out what had happened. I - couldn’t understand the constable’s threat to get me - ten days, and concluded he was so excited that he said - ten days when he meant ten years.</p> - - <p>He turned out to be a very decent fellow. He was - postmaster, section boss, and constable. He appeared - at the jail in the evening with a big dishpan full of - food—bread, meat, butter, a fruit jar full of fresh - milk, and half a pie. He apologized for having lost - his temper and treating me so roughly, asked me if I - wanted tobacco, and made a special trip back to his - house for some old magazines.</p> - - <p>I was surprised to learn that I had been arrested - for trespass, or stealing a ride. He explained that - the bums had burned a string of box cars farther up - the road and the “company” had sent out orders to - arrest them on sight and give them ten days.</p> - - <p>“It’s a wonder somebody along the road didn’t tell - you about it,” he said. “You’re the first one I’ve seen - for a month. The bums are all going over the Union - Pacific now instead of the Rio Grande. It’s too bad, - you’ll get ten days sure in the morning. Company’s - orders. Good night.”</p> - - <p>I put in most of the night trying to think up a talk - for the judge next morning. After bringing my - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span>breakfast the constable went after him, and about nine - o’clock they appeared, a few town loungers following - them. They didn’t even take me out of the cell for - my “trial.”</p> - - <p>The judge asked my name, read the law from a - code he brought along, listened patiently to my talk, - and solemnly sentenced me to ten days in the jail. - I asked him to take my ten-dollar bill and let me go, - but he refused it.</p> - - <p>“Sorry, young man. Can’t do it. Company’s - orders, ten days.”</p> - - <p>One of the loungers threw me a Salt Lake - newspaper, another gave me a sack of tobacco, cigarette - papers, and matches. When they had gone I opened - the paper and found the story of my escape from the - courtroom. The reporter treated it humorously, and - made fun of everybody connected with my trial. I - didn’t know what he saw about it that was so funny - till I got to the end of it, where he said the jury came - in with their verdict of “not guilty” before I was out - of the block.</p> - - <p>This took a big load off my mind; nothing to fear - now. I could go back to Salt Lake and wait for my - friends to come out of prison. The Sanctimonious - Kid had but two weeks more to do, Soldier Johnnie - but a month. George had almost a year yet to do.</p> - - <p>All thought of going home was gone. I owed money - to Shorty and George. That must be paid. All worry - was off my mind now and I began planning to get - some money when I got out. My head was full of - schemes I had absorbed during my month in the - penitentiary. George’s tales of fat post offices and country - general stores came back to me. Idle all day in my - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span>cell, my eyes and thoughts turned to the big general - store directly across the street from the jail.</p> - - <p>The constable often talked to me in the evening - while I ate supper. I learned from him that all the - money in the town was in the big safe in the store, - his post office money and stamps included. The store - owner, as was often the case in small towns, did a - banking business and had acquired about all the money - in the place.</p> - - <p>It was a puzzle to me how to get out of the town - when my time was up without spending my ten dollars - for fare. This was not to be thought of. The - constable solved it by volunteering to put me on a freight - train that stopped there in the daytime and fix it with - the crew to let me ride back to Salt Lake, where I - could start east over the Union Pacific.</p> - - <p>The morning my ten days expired I went over to - the store, bought some tobacco, and waited around till - time for the train. I got the make of the big safe, - its location in the store, and any other information - I could, without asking questions, and decided to - report the matter to my friends at Salt Lake. The - constable fixed me for a ride, as he promised, but - instead of stopping at Salt Lake I went on to Ogden - and wrote a letter to Sanc, telling him where I would - be when he came out. I was careful with my ten - dollars and had half of it when he appeared at Ogden.</p> - - <p>I at once told him of my ten-day sentence and about - the fat general store. He had promised to wait for - Soldier Johnnie, who was due in three weeks, and - offered to pay my expenses till then, when something - might be done about my store.</p> - - <p>Johnnie was discharged in due time and arrived at - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span>Ogden. He was pretty well supplied with money and - there was no rush about doing anything. We talked - over the general store, but Johnnie didn’t like the looks - of it. The night trains didn’t stop at the town, and - it was so far from Salt Lake that horses were out of - the question.</p> - - <p>“No getaway,” he said. “I can beat the box all - right, but we can’t get out of there if we do get the - money.” Sanc agreed.</p> - - <p>During my ten-day stay in the town I had turned - over in my mind a hundred plans, but only one of them - seemed feasible, and I was almost afraid to broach - that to them. At last, when I saw they were going - to give it up as a bad job, I said to them:</p> - - <p>“Can’t you both go over there, get yourselves ten - days like I did, make a key for the cell, and go out - at night and get the box? You could plant the money - and lock yourselves up again. Then when your time - is up you can go away and come back for the coin when - the thing cools off.”</p> - - <p>They looked at me and laughed. An hour later - Sanc said to Johnnie:</p> - - <p>“Say, there might be something in that, after all. - We would have a perfect alibi.”</p> - - <p>The bizarre appealed to Sanc.</p> - - <p>After some discussion they decided to “look into it.”</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER X</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">An</span> apprentice to a mob of yeggs has to do the - rough, unskilled work just as if he were learning a - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span>trade from any craftsman. I was sent out to get - dynamite, caps, and fuse at a railroad construction - camp, and returned with them safely. My next job - was to go out and buy a number of twist drills. - Johnnie hired a horse, bought a couple of blankets and - a pair of overalls, and set off to look over the general - store. The dynamite and drills were to be left near - the store so they would be available in case they - decided to “crush” into the jail and beat the box while - serving their time.</p> - - <p>He returned in a week, very enthusiastic. The box - looked good. There were guns and ammunition in the - store. The jail was empty. There was a blacksmith - shop where other necessary tools could be had, the - town was dead at night. He had fitted keys to the - padlocks on both the jail cells (all this would have - been my work if I had not been known in the town), - and had planted his “dan,” caps, and fuse safely near - the jail. He had picked out another spot near the - jail where the money was to be planted.</p> - - <p>Their plan was to buy tickets to the town nearest - the one where I was arrested, on the same passenger - train, then to get out and on the baggage, where the - hostile constable would find them. I was given enough - money to supply my wants till the business was over. - They secreted the jail keys carefully in their shoes. - The cautious Johnnie had also planted in the empty - jail files and blank keys to be used in case they lost - those they were carrying.</p> - - <p>“The only danger is,” said Sanc, “that some other - bums may be picked up and thrown into this jail with - us.”</p> - - <p>“In that case,” Johnnie replied, “we’ll have to do - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span>our ten days and crush right back in again and stay - there till we can get the jail all to ourselves.”</p> - - <p>“Kid,” said Sanc, as they were leaving, “watch the - papers. If it goes all right we’ll be back in about - two weeks. If it goes wrong, and you never can tell, - you will know from the papers what happened. Then - send somebody up to the ‘stir’ to see George and he - will tell you what to do.”</p> - - <p>Ten days later the burglary was reported in the - papers. Four thousand dollars had been taken from - the general store and the man hunt was on. The - burglars had worked quietly. The theft was not - discovered till opening-up time the next morning. The - thieves were evidently experts, and left behind them - the most complete set of safe-breaking tools seen in - years, etc., etc. They had escaped by taking a hand - car from the section house. It was found wrecked - several miles down the railroad track.</p> - - <p>Johnnie and Sanc had strengthened their alibi and - strangled any suspicion that might fall on them by - taking the “John O’Brien”—the bums’ term for hand - car, so called because every other section boss in those - days was named O’Brien—and starting it down the - railroad. There was a slight grade and it traveled - several miles before jumping the track into the ditch, - where it was found wrecked, “abandoned by the - burglars.”</p> - - <p>The hunt started from there. Blanket stiffs - looking for work were brought in, questioned, locked up - for a day or two, and let go. The trains were searched - up and down the line. Bums were brought in, got - their ten days, but the burglars escaped and in a week - the hue and cry was over. It was almost three weeks - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span>before the burglars showed up at Ogden. They were - nervous and irritable, complaining that the jail had - got uncomfortably filled up the last few days they were - there. They got lousy from the blanket stiffs. The - constable was sore about the burglary and wouldn’t - square them for a ride into Salt Lake as he had done - for me, and they had to pay their fare out of the - town. Their money was almost gone, and there, in - that little burg, was four thousand dollars that couldn’t - be touched for at least a month, and somebody was - liable to “steal” it on them. I got nervous, too.</p> - - <p>We decided to go up to Pocatello and kill the month - around Salt Chunk Mary’s, where we would be safe - and welcome, and where they could borrow enough - money to live on until the time came to go after the - four thousand. After a night’s ride we were welcomed - by Mary, who spread the customary feed of beans - and salt pork before us. She inquired anxiously about - “Foot-and-a-half George.” She seemed to know every - bum on the road of any consequence.</p> - - <p>Johnnie put in his time down in the jungle drinking - with the bums. Sanc and I either watched the fine - six-foot Indians that stalked about the town looking - scornfully at their white inferiors, or the tinhorn - gamblers who skinned the railroad men on pay days and - each other afterward.</p> - - <p>Pay day was coming on and the town took on a busy - aspect. Small-money gamblers appeared with their - women companions. “Brass peddlers,” bums who sold - imitation gold jewelry, principally rings, appeared on - the streets with their ninety-cents-a-dozen gold “hoops” - made in Wichita, Kansas, and “dropped” them to the - Indian squaws and railroad laborers for any price - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>from one dollar up. Other bums had bundles of pants - and shoes planted in the jungle, the proceeds of a - boxcar burglary on the Oregon Short Line. These articles - were peddled openly about the railroad shops and to - trainmen in the yards. A band of yeggs on their way - to Great Falls and then to the “Canadian side” - stopped off to thresh out their “soup” in the jungle.</p> - - <p>The “Johnson family” became so numerous that a - “convention” must be held. In any well-ordered - convention all persons of suspicious or doubtful intentions - are thrown out at the start. When a bums’ - “convention” is to be held, the jungle is first cleared of all - outsiders such as “gay cats,” “dingbats,” “whangs,” - “bindle stiffs,” “jungle buzzards,” and “scissors bills.” - Conventions are not so popular in these droughty days. - Formerly kegs of beer were rolled into the jungle and - the “punks,” young bums, were sent for “mickies,” - bottles of alcohol. “Mulligans” of chicken or beef - were put to cooking on big fires. There was a general - boiling up of clothes and there was shaving and - sometimes haircutting.</p> - - <p>The yeggs threshed out their “soup” and prepared - for the road. The “brass peddlers” compared notes - and devised new stunts for “dropping” their wares. - Traveling beggars, crippled in every conceivable - manner, discussed the best “spots” for profitable begging. - Beggars of this type are always welcomed at a - “convention” or any other place where thieves or bums - congregate.</p> - - <p>This may seem strange, but it’s a fact. The - underworld beggars are the most reliable and trustworthy, - the most self-sacrificing and the quickest to help of - any class of people outside the pale of society. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span>Crippled, wounded thieves, fugitives and escaping - prisoners, if they know what they are about, always turn - to the beggars for aid and are never refused. They - are sheltered in the beggar’s humble “flop,” his small - “plunge” (money he begs) is divided with them, and - he carries messages any distance to their friends and - relatives. The beggar minds his own business, settles - his own feuds, and I cannot recall ever seeing one - of them in court testifying against anybody for - anything.</p> - - <p>This convention at Pocatello ended in a most - unusual way. Nobody was killed, none of them fell - in the fire. There was no fighting. When their - “pennies” were all “slopped up,” and the food eaten, the - bums folded their tents and stole silently away to their - different activities.</p> - - <p>Sanc and Johnnie borrowed money from Mary and - we went back to Ogden, where they prepared for their - journey, horseback, after our coin.</p> - - <p>“Are you both going?” I asked.</p> - - <p>“Yes,” they answered without looking at each other. - I wondered if each mistrusted the other, and if I would - ever see either of them again, or any of the money.</p> - - <p>My fear of never seeing Sanc or Johnnie was - groundless and a wrong to them. They returned - within a week to the cheap lodging house where we - quartered at Ogden. The four thousand was split in - three equal parts. I was sent out with about - seventy-five dollars in silver coin to lay off for paper or gold. - They looked at me curiously as I stowed away my bit.</p> - - <p>“Top dough for you, isn’t it, kid?” said Sanc.</p> - - <p>“Yes, two hundred was the most I ever had. I - didn’t expect to get one-third of this money. I doubt - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span>if I earned it. I took no chances. You two did all - the work.”</p> - - <p>“We talked that over,” he replied, “and decided - you were entitled to an even cut. It was your caper, - you located it. You had the nerve to propose what - we first thought was a bughouse caper. We are clean - so far as the coppers are concerned. If we ever do - any time for this we’ll have to plead guilty to it. - The constable of that town would be our best witness - if we got picked up on it. He would never admit - that we could screw (key) out of his jail, beat that - box, plant the coin, throw the jail screws in the creek, - and go back and lock ourselves up. He might admit - that it could happen to some other jail, but he will - swear it couldn’t be done to his, see?</p> - - <p>“But here’s the main reason we gave you an even - cut of the coin. From the way you stepped in Smiler’s - case, and the way you took your jolt in the cooler at - the ‘big house’ we know you are ‘right.’ If anything - had gone wrong with this caper and we had to take - a pinch, we figured you would have been a big help - on the outside. That’s why you are declared ‘in and - in’ with the works.</p> - - <p>“And now that we can lay off for a while, where - will we go?” turning to Johnnie.</p> - - <p>“First,” said Johnnie, “we’ll go back to Pocatello - and pay Mary. She told me she was going to Salt - Lake soon to visit George at the ‘big house.’ I want - to send a few dollars to some people there. The kid - here wants to pay the hundred to Shorty that went to - Judge Powers and the ten George gave him. You’ll - probably want to send something, too. We can give - it all to Mary and she’ll deliver it. While we’re there - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span>I’ll have her buy me a pair of ‘smoke wagons.’ No - telling how soon I’ll be broke, and if I have a couple - of guns I won’t be helpless. Then I’m going home - for the winter, if nothing happens. When I got this - last jolt I wrote and told my people I was going to - Alaska for two years and they wouldn’t hear from me - till I got back.</p> - - <p>“I go home now and then when I have a decent - piece of money. My old people are both living, and - I’ve got seven brothers and sisters. I bring them all - something nice for presents, not that they need - anything, but just to rub it into them. I am the youngest - and always had to take the leavings. The first lock - I ever busted was on the pantry in the kitchen of my - old New Hampshire home, so far away.</p> - - <p>“Where are you going, kid?”</p> - - <p>“I’d like to stay with you people, but if you are - going to split out, I’ll go to San Francisco for a - while.”</p> - - <p>“You can go with me,” cut in Sanc. “I’m going - to San Francisco for the winter. No New Hampshire - winter for me.”</p> - - <p>I think the two of them were looking forward to - a few months of quiet, peace, and maybe dissipation. - My thoughts were running ahead to future burglaries. - No thought of going home, even when Johnnie was - telling of his home life. When I was hiding in the - empty house covered with Smiler’s blood, I wanted to - go home, because I was in a tough hole. Now I was - safe, independent, the life fascinated me. No thought - of home now.</p> - - <p>“What shall I do with the balance of the dynamite - and drills?” I asked. “Somebody might step on the - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span>bundle and blow the house down. It’s planted out in - the back.”</p> - - <p>“I’m going to meet George here in the spring when - he gets out,” said Sanc. “It would save us the trouble - of stealing more if we could plant it.” He was - thoughtful for a minute.</p> - - <p>“Kid, in the morning you go up to the bank and - rent a safety box for a year—it’s about four dollars. - Arrange with them to let any one into it that brings - a key. Tell them there will be nothing of value there, - just papers, and that you may want to send some one - else after them and to let any one open it who comes - with the key—better get two keys. After you get the - box arranged for, come down, get the ‘dan’ and ‘stems’ - (drills), and put them safely away in the box. When - you get the receipt for the box rent tear it up, throw - the pieces away, and bring me the keys. I’ll plant - them here in this joint somewhere where I can find - them when I return.”</p> - - <p>Johnnie laughed. “Sanc, are you going to plant - that stuff in the ‘jug’?”</p> - - <p>“Certainly, the bank will take good care of it and - it won’t deteriorate. I’m not going to carry the box - key around on my watch chain and put the receipt - carefully away in my pocket. If I get snared by the - bulls they won’t know I’ve got a safety box unless I - snitch on myself, and if I were going to stay in this - town my money would be in that box, too.”</p> - - <p>When the bank opened next morning I rented the - box and was given two keys and a password, and was - told that anybody bringing a key and the password - would have access to the box. “Even if it’s a - Chinaman,” said the attendant.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span>The receipt was destroyed, and the stuff, in a neat - parcel, put in the box. Sanc took the keys, planted - them somewhere about the premises, and buried the - password in his fertile mind.</p> - - <p>“Go down to the depot, kid, and get three tickets - to Pocatello. We’ll all stay uptown till the train is - ready to pull out. No good hanging around that - depot, it’s lousy with bulls.”</p> - - <p>Johnnie was a typical knight of the road. He - believed that beds were for sick people in hospitals, - that room rent was wild extravagance, and paying fare - on the railroad nothing but ostentatious spending. He - protested.</p> - - <p>“Sanc, you’re not going to start paying fare?”</p> - - <p>“Yes, I am, and I’ll buy you a ticket to California - if you’ll come. Just look at the pleasure you would - have beating your way from there back to your home - town in New Hampshire.”</p> - - <p>“That’s the funny part of it,” said Johnnie. “My - home town is twenty miles off the railroad and I - always have to pay fare on the stage going in and - out.”</p> - - <p>Back at Pocatello we paid Mary the borrowed - money, and spent some in her place for interest. She - gladly undertook to deliver the money we wanted - to go to our friends at the prison, and we gave - it to her, capable woman that she was, feeling - as sure they would get it as if we were doing it - ourselves.</p> - - <p>Mary bought or sold anything crooked. Johnnie - paid her for a couple of guns and gave her an address - in Chicago to express them to. He could have bought - them cheaper there, but in the matter of buying guns - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span>he was careful. Mary was square, and no matter what - happened, she would not talk.</p> - - <p>“Be sure and get thirty-eight caliber, Mary,” he - cautioned. “I won’t have any off calibers or strange - make of guns. I want the kind that everybody else - has. I don’t want to shoot anybody, but if I do they - won’t dig a forty-one caliber slug out of him and find - a forty-one caliber gun on me.”</p> - - <p>We parted at Pocatello, agreeing to “weigh in” - (meet) at Ogden in the spring; Johnnie starting home, - where he never arrived, and we to the Coast.</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XI</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">We</span> arrived in San Francisco safely and without - incident. The first thing was to get rooms. My - experience in the matter of Smiler inclined me toward - a room by myself. Sanc, always cautious, decided - it would be safest to have separate rooms. I found - a nice, quiet German hotel in the Mission where I - located, and Sanc found himself a place downtown. - After getting settled, Sanc took our paper money to - a bank and got gold for it.</p> - - <p>At that time storekeepers hesitated about taking - paper. Many of them did not know good from bad - paper, there was so little of it in circulation, and they - had been loaded up with Confederate bills till they - were suspicious of any paper and sometimes called in - a copper to inspect it and the person who proffered - it. We didn’t want any of this thing, and got gold at - once.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span>“Now for another safety box,” said Sanc. “I would - prefer the bank, straight, but there’s too many - formalities about putting it in and getting it out, and besides - that you can do a lot of locating if you have a safety - box. You can go in two or more times a day and - you will always see people going and coming to their - boxes with money or jewelry. Many women have all - their jewelry in safety boxes and only take it out when - they want to display it at a theater or party. They - lift it on the afternoon of the evening they want to - wear it, and put it back the next morning, but they - have to keep it at home that night. Simplest thing in - the world to tail them home from the bank.</p> - - <p>“The safety box is also used,” he continued to - illuminate me, “by race-horse men, gamblers, and the - moneyed macquereau, and I don’t mind telling you - that I’d rather ‘prowl’ one of them than any business - man. It’s a joy to hear one of them squawk, and most - of them would put the old index finger on you or me - in a minute, just by the way of alibi.</p> - - <p>“There is one bad objection to a safety box for a - thief. The coppers are beginning to get wise that they - are the greatest receptacles of loot in the world. They - are loaded with stolen money, jewelry, bonds; and the - larger boxes are often used to store smuggled opium - and other contraband drugs. The coppers hang - around them, doing a little locating themselves, and - if I were known in the town I wouldn’t think of having - anything crooked in one of them. I will pay for the - box, and tell them I play poker and may want - to get money before or after banking hours, and that - you are to have access to it at any time.”</p> - - <p>He got two keys and gave me one. “You can carry - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span>the key with you if you want, kid. There’s nothing - crooked in the box yet, but if there is later on, and - I hope there will be, you must plant it till you need - it. And here goes the receipt,” he said, tearing it to - bits and giving them to the wind.</p> - - <p>“To-morrow, Kid, while we have plenty of coin, I - want you to get a couple of guns. Thirty-eights,” and - he named a certain standard make. “No other kind, - remember. You heard what Soldier Johnnie said, and - he knew what he was doing. I suppose you’ll go to - the first hardware store for them, eh?” he said rather - severely.</p> - - <p>Those were the good, or bad, old days when any - wild-eyed maniac could rush into a hardware store or - pawnshop with money enough and buy a gun, - guaranteed to kill a man a block away. They would take - the number of it, to be sure, in order to get witness - fees if the gun worked properly. To-day it’s a little - more difficult to buy a gun in California. The better - stores will not sell them unless the purchaser has a - permit. The other stores, and they are quite - numerous, take your money to-day for the gun, and - to-morrow you go to the store and get it.</p> - - <p>“Oh, I don’t know, I might look around a bit,” I - said. “How about getting them in a hockshop?”</p> - - <p>“That would be just the place, kid, if you were - going to shoot a burglar or stick-up man, but in this - instance there’s a difference. I’ve been carrying a gun - around for ten years. Every time I fired it I was - in the wrong, legally speaking, see? I’ve been - lucky enough so far not to have killed anybody, and - hope I never do, but you have to be careful just the - same. The hardware store has the number of every - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span>gun. The hockshop man not only notes the number, - but in most cases puts a mark on it for future - reference. Your hockshop man, kid, is the hangman’s - handmaiden.</p> - - <p>“You will get those guns in Chinatown at different - places, one to-morrow morning and one in the evening. - You have plenty of time, and the best way to spend - it is in taking precautions against trouble. The Chinks - are safe to do any kind of business with, buying or - selling. They don’t talk. I’ll show you the kind of - place to go this evening. The guns you will buy are - probably stolen from some pig-iron dump (hardware - store) outside of the state, and come into the Chinks’ - hands by such devious routes that the numbers are long - since lost track of.”</p> - - <p>The guns and cartridges were duly bought and put - away in the safety box with most of our money. The - keys we planted about the places where we lived. Our - clothes were few and in bad shape. Sanc proposed - going to a tailor.</p> - - <p>“Yes,” I said. “Here’s where one of my ambitions - comes to a head. I’m going to have a nice gray suit, - gray hat, and a fine leather trunk,” my mind going - back to the gray man and his traveled trunk that I - worshiped on the depot platform in my little town. - It seemed an age since then.</p> - - <p>“If you dress yourself that way, Kid, we part. - Where did you gather that insane notion? A gray - suit, gray hat, leather trunk! I suppose you’d have - stickers on the trunk so the coppers wouldn’t have to - ask you where you were from.”</p> - - <p>I was silent, ashamed to tell him where I got the - notion.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span>“It’s just as I said about the guns; you might wear - that rig if you were out hunting burglars, but you - wouldn’t get many. Even the ‘dicks’ have too much - sense to dress that way. Do you want everybody to - look at you? Do you want everybody that looks at - you to remember you? You do not. You want as - few people to look at you as possible, and you want - those few to forget you as soon as possible,” he - continued, with emphasis.</p> - - <p>“What you want is clothes that will not detain the - eye for a second. Expensive as you like, and well - fitting, but not loud or striking. You want clothes that - a man or woman could not describe as blue, brown, - or black five minutes after looking at you. You want - neutral clothes. Be as positive yourself as you like, - but no positive clothes. You’ve got to watch yourself, - kid. You know that old maxim, ‘eternal vigilance.’ - You’ll have enough trouble come to you naturally and - unavoidably—accidents that you cannot - foresee—without advertising for it with a loud suit of rags. - Ninety-nine men out of a hundred are picked up - through some peculiarity of dress and identified by the - same. You don’t want any funny hats, either, or loud - ties.</p> - - <p>“You know when you are doing things to people - you depend largely on the element of surprise. They - do not look at you carefully and memorize your - features. They get a fleeting, frightened glance, and you - are off. But a red tie, Kid, a glance is enough, and - no matter how surprised your party may be he - remembers your gray suit, gray hat, or red tie.”</p> - - <p>The Sanctimonious Kid was a sober, careful - character. He did not gamble and keep us broke as poor - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span>Smiler had. We went along easily and got some good - out of our money. I spent days along the water front - and in the park and at the beach, and evenings at - shows or in the dance halls, watching the sailors, - whalers, miners, lumbermen, spending their - winter-money in a night.</p> - - <p>The night life fascinated me. Grant Avenue, now - filled with the best shops, was a part of the - Tenderloin, and all the narrow streets or alleys off it were - crowded with cribs and small saloons with a dance - floor in the back room. Many of them had only the - short, swinging doors, and never closed from one - year’s end to another. The Tenderloin was saturated - with opium. The fumes of it, streaming out of the - Baltimore House at the corner of Bush and Grant, - struck the nostrils blocks away. Every room in it was - tenanted by hop smokers. The police did not molest - them. The landlord asked only that they pay their - rent promptly. If it was not paid on the hour, he took - the door of the room off its hinges and put it behind - the counter, leaving the occupant’s “things” at the - mercy of his fellow lodgers.</p> - - <p>Dupont Street, now Grant Avenue, began at Bush - and carried the Tenderloin over into Chinatown, - where old St. Mary’s Church rose from the heart of - it, brooding over it all. It was a colorful - Tenderloin—loud, drunken, odorous, and stupid from hop. Its - bad wine, ill women, and worse song have gone to - join the Indian, the buffalo, the roulette wheel, and - the faro box. Deeply and securely dug in, it yielded - slowly, inch by inch, and with scant grace, to the - sledgehammer blows of the militant Father Caraher.</p> - - <p>I made a few acquaintances around the dance halls - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span>and found my way into the hop joints. Curiosity was - my only excuse for my first “smoke.” It made me - very sick, and although I became a “smoker” after, - it was years before I touched the pipe again.</p> - - <p>Sanc spent his time in his own way, and there were - times when I wouldn’t see him for a week. One night - when he appeared at our eating place, he handed me - a sheet of paper.</p> - - <p>“Here’s some work for you, kid. There are the - names and addresses of about fifty people here and - in Oakland who carry burglary insurance. It cost me - one hundred dollars. The lawyer who got it for me - probably gave the clerk who got it for him ten dollars. - It’s cheap though, at that, for it will save me a lot of - footwork, guesswork, and uncertainty. A glance at - that list tells you where they live, it tells you they - have valuables because they are insured, and it tells - me that they are careless because they are insured. - It also tells me that in case of a show-down they will - give up their valuables without a murmur because they - are insured. It further tells me that some of them - are going to collect insurance shortly, providing you - get out and do your part of it, and that’s this.</p> - - <p>“I want you to look over some of those shacks. - To-morrow you copy off about three names and plant - that list somewhere around your hotel; then go out - and look over the places. Later I’ll look at any you - think are possible of approach. I want to know about - dogs, kids, servants, sick people—everything. The - house, the porch, the basement, the yard, the alley.</p> - - <p>“You’ve read a lot of books about criminals, but - forget it all. Don’t scrape acquaintance with the - nurse girl to ask questions. Don’t ask a question in - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span>the neighborhood. Just walk by and look, or get a - book or paper and read where you get a good view - of the house and its occupants. Look at the porches - especially. This is about the time of the year for a - good ‘supper sneak’; it’s dark when they are at dinner - now.</p> - - <p>“Take your time, and when you see one that looks - tough, forget it. There ought to be a few soft ones - on that list. One good one would do.”</p> - - <p>There was nothing of the Bill Sikes about Sanc. - He ordered me to do things as a plumber would an - apprentice. I took orders and obeyed them as any - apprentice should, cheerfully. I worked faithfully - day after day, reporting several places to Sanc, who - took a look at them and said, “Keep on going, Kid.”</p> - - <p>At last I found a house that seemed to interest - him. He looked at it and told me to quit my search - and turn my attention to the place for a few evenings. - It was built to be burglarized. Big yard, trees, shrubs. - House of about ten rooms, two stories, porch in front - and around one side. It was on a corner lot and from - the side street the family could be seen, assembled at - dinner.</p> - - <p>We looked at it together for several evenings, and - Sanc decided it would do. “Ordinarily,” said he, “I - would get this alone, but to-morrow night you will - come along. That old porch may not bear my weight. - If it won’t, you will have to go up.”</p> - - <p>The next evening we were in the yard when they - gathered round the dinner table. The upstairs was - lighted as usual. Sanc left me in the shrubbery, and - stepped to the side porch and upon the railing. When - he grasped the upper part to lift himself, the whole - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span>structure groaned and creaked and rocked. He tried - another place and it was worse. He beckoned me. - “Up you go, Kid. It won’t hold me. The front rooms - first, remember. Take your time; we have half an - hour. I’ll protect you.”</p> - - <p>I went up with ease and he back to the sheltering - shrubs. The nearest window was unfastened. I doubt - if one of them was locked. I was nervous. My heart - was pounding with the suspense till I could hear it. - Sanc had instructed me well. I was fortunate enough - to get the long end of what was there. It was on - top of a dressing table. No money. The other rooms - were bare of valuables.</p> - - <p>I was hanging from the top of the porch, feeling - for a foothold on the railing, when a pair of arms - encircled me, and, thinking it was Sanc helping me - down, I said softly, preparing to let go my handholds, - “Have you got me?”</p> - - <p>The arms tightened around my waist like iron - bands, pinning me to the porch post, helpless.</p> - - <p>“Yes, damn you, I’ve got you good!” said a strange - voice. “Oh, Clarence, come out here. I’ve got a - burglar, red-handed.”</p> - - <p>Captured red-handed, as I was, my mind turned to - Sanc. I could not believe he had deserted me. - Another man joined my captor in response to his call - and they began tugging and hauling me, trying to - break my hold on the porch roof. I could see myself - being beaten, mauled, despoiled of my loot, and - thrown into the patrol wagon by the two outraged and - angry citizens.</p> - - <p>Just when I was ready to let go all holds and fall - into their arms, I felt the iron clasp of the one that - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span>had me around the body slacken slowly. One of them - exclaimed: “Look out!” Then I heard Sanc’s voice. - It was not clear and soft as usual. There seemed to - be a slight impediment or obstruction in his speech, - which was positive enough but so different that I - doubted for a minute if it was he. His precise and - careful English was gone, too.</p> - - <p>“Hey, youse, let go uh that guy or I’ll tear your - heads off. Want to git yourselves plugged over a - bunch of junk dat’s insured? Git inside an’ stay there - or I’ll smoke the both of youse off.”</p> - - <p>My confidence came back, and I found a foothold - on the porch rail. My captors were backing slowly, - silently toward the door they came out of. Sanc, a - fearsome object, his coat collar up, hat down over his - ears and eyes, stood in the shadow of a large bush six - feet away, waving some shiny thing at them. “Don’t - try any funny business,” he said to them as I jumped - to the ground. “You might get us to-morrow but not - to-night. Phone your head off if you want, but don’t - poke it out of the house while we’re in the block.”</p> - - <p>“Did you connect, Kid?” he asked when we were - on the street.</p> - - <p>“Yes, a coat pocket full,” I said, brushing the - cobwebs and dust off my clothes; “but why did you tell - them to phone?”</p> - - <p>“I’ll explain all that to you later. You’ve got to - outthink them. You have to have something besides - guts at this racket. I sent them to the phone so they - wouldn’t follow us out. I couldn’t have stood them - off on the street with this bottle. I had to keep - waving it about wildly for fear they would see it wasn’t a - gun. I found it right at my hand on the porch, and it - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span>served the purpose,” he said, throwing it into a yard. - “I seldom carry a gun at this evening work because - I can flatten the average man with a punch. However, - I think I shall put a small ‘rod’ in my coat pocket - hereafter.”</p> - - <p>We walked away briskly without attracting - attention; it was early evening and there were people in - every block. At a corner I started to turn toward - downtown. He stopped me. “No, no; we must - assume that they phoned because they did not follow - us. That way you might meet the coppers on their - way out.”</p> - - <p>A short walk brought us to a car line. “Take this - car, Kid, and go straight to your room. I’ll be on - the next one; and don’t lock your door when you go - in. It looks and sounds suspicious at seven o’clock - in the evening in a decent, quiet hotel.”</p> - - <p>He came in ten minutes after me, without - knocking, and locked the door softly. “Now, kid,” he said - in his best manner, “we will proceed to estimate the - intrinsic value of our takings in dollars and cents. - That amount, divided by four, will give us an idea of - what we have earned this evening.”</p> - - <p>“Why divide it by four, Sanc?”</p> - - <p>“Because it’s crooked and no fence will give you - more. It’s a great game, Kid. The fence divides it - by four, taking seventy-five per cent of the value to - pay him for the chances he takes. The loser, - reporting to the insurance company, multiplies it by four to - pay himself for the extrinsic value of his junk, and - the annoyance caused by his burglar.”</p> - - <p>He turned to the stuff I threw on the bed. “Better - brush your clothes off carefully, Kid. There are still - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span>some smudges on your coat.” He looked at me - critically. “And a button gone.” He pointed to where - there should have been a button. “Take that suit - off. Put on your old one. That button is around - that porch and it’s enough to bury us both in Quentin. - Tear the tailor’s tags out of those clothes, wrap them - up, go out, and throw them in a lot somewhere, not - too close to this place. To-morrow you can order a - new suit. That one is poison. While you’re out, I’ll - take these stones out of their ‘harness.’”</p> - - <p>It broke my heart to throw away a new suit of - clothes, but I was a good apprentice and obeyed. - When I returned he had finished “unharnessing” the - stones. There was a fistful of broken gold settings, - and some small articles of little value. “Wrap that - junk up, kid, take it out and throw it in a lot and not - the same lot you left the clothes in, either,” said the - master.</p> - - <p>I tore a sheet from a newspaper, and, wrapping - the junk up, started out again. He stopped me. - “Wouldn’t it be just as well to take the balance of - that paper and throw it away, Kid? Why leave it in - the room? It fits the piece you have in your pocket. - And be sure to throw that junk away. Don’t plant it - somewhere against a rainy day. Throw it away,” he - finished emphatically.</p> - - <p>Again I obeyed. When I got back he had planted - the stones, a very small parcel now, in the hotel wash - room. On our way out he said, “One more thing - now, and I will feel safe. We will get a new hat - each.”</p> - - <p>We left the old ones in the store, “to be called - for.”</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span>“Now, Kid, something to eat, and I will sum up for - you the doings of this evening.” Seated in a quiet - restaurant with decent dinners before us, Sanc - began.</p> - - <p>“You probably thought when you were seized - coming down the porch that I had abandoned you.”</p> - - <p>I protested, “No, no.”</p> - - <p>“Well, that’s what I would have thought if I had - been in your place. You see, I saw the party coming - toward the door just as you were dropping off the - porch roof. I was afraid if I started anything then - you would go back up and get trapped inside the house. - So I let things go along naturally till I thought they - had gone far enough.”</p> - - <p>“You did the right thing,” I said gratefully, “but - why did you tell them they might get us to-morrow?”</p> - - <p>“Ha, that’s the psychology of the situation, Kid. I - mentioned also that he was insured. That reminds - him that he is not losing anything, and it also saves - his face with the family. He went inside and said to - them and the other chap, after they had looked about - the house and phoned the police, ‘Oh, well, we’re - insured. Of course if we hadn’t been I would have - given that other burglar a battle, tough as he was.’ - Then the other chap cuts in and says, ‘You did the - sensible thing, Tom. The police will pick them up - to-morrow at some pawnshop.’</p> - - <p>“You see, kid,” Sanc continued, “those people are - excited and frightened. You have to think for them - and for yourself, too. When I told them they might - get us to-morrow I gave them another out; they say - to themselves, ‘Why, of course the police will get - them. How foolish of us to endanger ourselves and - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span>family over a few things that are insured and will - be recovered in the pawnshops when the burglars are - arrested.’</p> - - <p>“Then I send them to the phone, and we depart.”</p> - - <p>I listened, spellbound. “You did something to your - voice. I hardly recognized it.”</p> - - <p>“Simplest thing in the world. Put a fifty-cent - piece or any little object in your mouth and see what - a difference it makes in your voice. I venture to say - that the loss of one tooth would cause a change that - might be detected with certain instruments for - analyzing sound. It’s just as well to take such precautions. - Some people have uncanny memories for voices. And - now we come to the last phase of the evening’s work. - It hurt you to throw away your new suit. Don’t - worry, it’s not wasted. Somebody will find it and - wear it, and maybe get arrested. But this is no time - for speculating about that. Suppose that button were - found on that porch or maybe in one of the rooms. - You might have lost it going in the window upstairs. - It don’t belong in the house. The presumption is that - you lost it in the struggle or climbing up the porch.</p> - - <p>“Old Captain Lees (you’ve heard of him) would - give that button to one of his smart young ‘dicks’ and - stand him on the Richelieu corner, Geary and Market.</p> - - <p>“He would stand there from four in the afternoon - till midnight waiting for you to come along, which - you do every evening. Just think what might happen - to us then. He wouldn’t pinch you there. He would - tail you to your room, then to my room, then to the - safety box, and when they got ready in we would go. - Think that over.</p> - - <p>“If the case were big enough, Lees would go - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span>through every tailor shop in town fishing for a line - on you, and he might stumble on it.</p> - - <p>“The gold mountings you threw away could have - been melted at the expense of a fifteen-cent crucible - and a dime’s worth of borax, and would have brought - us maybe ten dollars as old gold at any jeweler’s. But - think of the chances you take in selling it, jeopardizing - the stones we have and our liberty for ten - dollars—bad business.</p> - - <p>“And that newspaper I made you throw out. - Here’s the reason. We might be in jail to-morrow - on suspicion. We figure to get picked up any time - because, well, because we’re what we are. Everything - in your room, if they find your room, is taken down - and held and examined. Suppose that happened - to-morrow and while you’re locked up the parcel of - junk is found in the lot wrapped in the missing part - of the paper found in your room. No lawyer in - California could beat that case. That proves possession - and that’s all they need to convict you of burglary. - And here’s something else about house burglary. You - seldom get money. Everything has to be sold. And - that’s where your danger and troubles begin in earnest. - Not one house burglar in a hundred is caught in the - act. It’s always when he is trying to sell his plunder.</p> - - <p>“I could steal, take, and carry away,” he continued, - smiling, “fifty thousand dollars’ worth of - plunder—rugs, furs, paintings, statuary, and such junk in thirty - days, if I wanted to make a pack horse of myself. - But just imagine trying to dispose of it. There’s - where you ‘sup with sorrow’ as the poet says, Kid. - Take nothing you can’t put in your coat pocket. - You’ve got to watch yourself like a fat man on a diet. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span>The smallest trifle will upset you, and you’ll have - leisure to repent your carelessness. When you get - your new suit from the tailor’s, take all the tags out - of it, and when you buy a hat don’t let the hatter - stamp your name on the sweatband. You don’t know - what house you might lose it in.</p> - - <p>“I know thieves so conceited and foolish that they - have their names in their hats and monogrammed - pocket handkerchiefs, and neat little notebooks with - all their friends’ addresses and phone numbers - carefully noted. That’s the type of thief that calls the - police ‘a bunch of chumps,’ and goes to jail crying, - ‘Somebody snitched.’</p> - - <p>“The police are not chumps, kid; they are just lazy, - that’s all. If they worked as thoroughly at their - business as I do at mine, I don’t know what would - happen. They are human, and take the easy way. - Somebody whispers to a dick. He whispers to me, - and we go down to the jail, where he locks me up ‘on - suspicion.’ The next morning he and his partner come - to my cell, knock me down, walk up and down on - my wishbone for a few minutes, and ask me if I am - ready to snitch on myself and all my friends. If I - decline to help them, they let me out. That’s the - lazy coppers’ notion of doing police duty.”</p> - - <p>Our dinner finished, he said: “And now, after all - this talk, what do you think we should do with the - stones we have?”</p> - - <p>“Why not spend a hundred dollars for fare to - Pocatello and back?” I asked. “Mary’s safe.”</p> - - <p>“You are learning, Kid. That’s precisely what I - intended doing. Mary is safe, and moreover she’ll - give me more than I could get around here. The - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span>expense of going to her is money spent insuring - ourselves against trouble. If I try to drop the stones - here, I have to take what the first man offers me or - I make a dangerous enemy right there. If I refuse - to be robbed and turn down half a dozen offers, I - make that many bad friends, and they whisper me - into jail. I could give them to some crooked saloon - man, who would sell them in an hour and pay me at - the rate of five or ten dollars a day, in the hope that - before I got all the money I would get pinched for - something else, and put away where I couldn’t collect - the balance. If I get insistent and demand it all at - once, he throws a scare into me thus: ‘Say, now, - what’re you trying to do, crowd somebody? If I - wanted to be wrong I could turn you in to the coppers - and get a favor of them some time. But I’m right. - Nevertheless, don’t try to crowd me, see?’</p> - - <p>“So I am for Salt Chunk Mary’s in the morning. - She’s righter than a golden guinea and is entitled to - make the profit on the junk. I’ll be back in ten days.</p> - - <p>“While I’m away take it easy and don’t go around - the residence district at all. You can make the safety - box about ten o’clock in the morning and four in the - afternoon every day. You might locate something - from there. Here’s something else you can do.</p> - - <p>“Every afternoon go into some good hotel and pay - for a room for the night. Register from out of town. - When you get the key, go out to your own room and - make a duplicate of it. Mark your duplicate so you - can identify it, and plant it somewhere. Most of the - best places are using these spring locks now and you - can’t do anything without a key when there’s a sleeper - in the room. In a week you’ll have keys to half a - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span>dozen good transient rooms in the best hotels, and I - might get some real money out of them.</p> - - <p>“Go back to the hotel in the evening, tell the clerk - you are called out of town and ask for your money - back. He will usually give it to you.”</p> - - <p>I bade Sanc good night and good-by, resolving to - have something good located for him on his return - from Salt Chunk Mary’s.</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XII</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">During</span> Sanc’s absence I worked industriously, - bettering his instructions by renting two rooms a day and - making the duplicate keys. In most instances the - clerks returned my money when I told them I was - called away and could not occupy the rooms. My - days were well filled with work, renting two rooms, - making two keys, trying to get my room money - refunded and visiting the safety box twice a day, - sometimes following a depositor out and around the streets - to see what he did with his money.</p> - - <p>My evenings were my own and I spent them on the - Barbary Coast or the water front. With an old suit - on and a dollar or two in silver I loved to go to the - sailors’ boarding houses where seafaring men, brawny, - brown, and tattooed, speaking all languages, ate, - drank, fought, sang their strange sea songs, and told - tales of hardship and adventure on all the seas. Here - I learned to beware the crafty shanghaier with his - knockout drops, lying in wait for strong young - fellows from the country. The cowardly and - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span>unscrupulous thieves who later used chloral so indiscriminately - and murderously learned its stupefying effects from - the busy shanghaier on San Francisco’s water front.</p> - - <p>The wine dumps, where wine bums or “winos” hung - out, interested me. Long, dark, dirty rooms with - rows of rickety tables and a long bar behind which - were barrels of the deadly “foot juice” or “red ink,” - as the winos called it. Sometimes the dump was - equipped with a small lunch counter in the back where - the winos could buy for a nickel a big plate of - something that looked like stew, and a hunk of stale bread. - The stew was served from a big pot that was always - boiling. Several times a day the porter, who was also - cook and waiter and wino as well, threw a box of - mixed vegetables, discarded from the commission - houses, unwashed and unpeeled, into the pot. Then - followed a box of bones, pieces of tallow, scraps of - meat trimmings, odds and ends of meat covered with - sawdust from the floor of the market near by.</p> - - <p>The patrons of the wine dumps were recruited from - every walk of life. Scholars, quoting Greek and Latin - poets, lawyers dissecting Blackstone, writers with - greasy rolls of manuscript fraternized with broken - bums from the road, sailors too old for the sea, and - scrapped mechanics from the factories—all under the - lash of alcohol. They sat in groups at the tables - drinking the wine, alcohol in its cheapest and deadliest - form, from every conceivable kind of vessel: tin cans, - pewter mugs, beer glasses, steins, and cracked soup - bowls—anything unbreakable that the boss could buy - from a junkman. They talked volubly. They - seldom laughed and never fought—too far gone for - laughing or fighting. When they could drink no more - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span>or buy no more, they staggered or crawled to a bare - space on the floor in the back of the room where they - lay on their backs in a row with their heads to the - wall, each with his hat over his hideous, bloated, - purple face. The porter-cook-wino watched the sleepers - carefully. When he thought they had “slept it off” - enough to stand up, he roughly kicked them to their - feet and herded them out into the streets to beg, - borrow, or steal enough small silver for another bout. - Too often they failed to respond to his kicks; he would - lift the battered hat, take one look at the purple-blue - face, and ring for the morgue wagon.</p> - - <p>This pitiful crew, gathered from the four corners of - the earth and from every stratum of society, whipped - beyond resistance by that mysterious and irresistible - craving for alcohol, drank themselves purple in the - wine dumps and died on the floors or under the city - sidewalks. The wine dumps are gone; can any man - regret their passing? And so are the winos gone. - In their places have appeared the Jamaica ginger fiend, - the canned heat and wood alcohol drinker. It is - difficult to study and classify them; their lives are too - short.</p> - - <p>The most disreputable wine dump in the city was in - Clay Street, below Kearny, and I never failed to visit - it when in the neighborhood. I had no more than - stepped into the place one night when a wino at the - door shouted, “Here comes the wagon,” and dashed - out wildly. Some of the soberest ran out the back - and disappeared. I started to the front door, but the - cops were coming in. I was the first one they got, - and as the cop threw me into the wagon, in the middle - of my explanation, he said: “Oh, tell the judge about - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span>it, I’m no court. I’m a hundred-dollar-a-month cop, - and it serves me right for being one if I get lousy - throwing all you wine bums in and out of the wagon.” - He seemed discouraged.</p> - - <p>I had got calloused about getting locked up and - didn’t worry, knowing they couldn’t do much to me. - But going over in the wagon my mind turned to the - burglary of the week before. I felt uncomfortable - and thought of my room and was thankful that it - was “clean,” and of the safety box and the keys I - had made, and every other crooked transaction in my - short life of outlawry. “No danger,” I thought as - the wagon rattled over the blocks, “if I cover myself - up. My name is William Brown, I am nineteen years - old. I was born in Pocatello, Idaho. My parents died - when I was fourteen. I have supported myself since, - selling papers, washing dishes, and working on farms. - I came to this city this morning and am going to get - a job. I went into that place out of curiosity.”</p> - - <p>I just had this short biography put together when - we got to the city prison. It was in the basement - of a building that stood where the Hall of Justice - now is, and it was the foulest I ever saw, worse than - the first one at home. There was a busy spot, that - corridor in the city prison! Officers hurrying in and - out, lawyers haggling at the desk about releases for - prisoners, “fixers,” hawk-eyed and rapacious, lurked - about, cheap bail bondsmen coining misery, ignorance, - and crime into thick nickels and thin dimes, and on - the long bench by the wall sat a thin, wrinkled, poorly - dressed woman of fifty, holding a boy’s hand in hers. - He sat beside her, silent and stubborn. She was - crying.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span>Ten of us from the wine dump were lined up at the - desk. The officer in charge said to the man at the - desk. “We’ll vag the chronics and charge the new - ones with drunk.” The chronic winos gave their - names, etc., and were hurried away down the - corridor. Another chap and I were the only “new ones.” - We answered all questions without angering anybody - and getting knocked down. I protested that I wasn’t - drunk. The desk man said: “Oh, that’s all right, you - can go out in the morning at five o’clock on the broom.” - They searched me, but took nothing except a - pocketknife.</p> - - <p>We were put in a large cell about twenty feet square, - directly across the corridor from the desk where - prisoners were received and registered. The front of - this cell was of upright iron bars and admitted plenty - of light from the corridor. The cell was foul smelling - from a fixture in one corner that seemed to connect - directly with a sewer. A broken water faucet leaked - continually, with a hissing sound. About ten men were - there, some sleeping on the damp asphalt floor, some - on the benches that lined the wall; some stood - expectantly at the front waiting to be released, others - squatted on their haunches in the corners, staring - vacantly at the floor.</p> - - <p>I sat on the bench and wondered about “going out - on the broom” in the morning. I could have asked - my cellmates. I looked for the other “new one” - that came with me from the wine dump; he was asleep - on the floor. I decided not to ask, but to wait till - morning and find out for myself. Even at that age - I had stumbled upon one truth, and that is, The best - way to get misinformed is to ask a lot of questions. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span>Nearly all my life has been spent in the company of - unfortunate people, and while I never looked upon - myself as an unfortunate, I was always accepted as - one of them. Whatever knowledge I have of them - was gleaned by looking and listening, and it is much - more accurate than any I could have got by asking - impertinent and close-up questions. Your best friend - would give you a surly answer if you were to ask - him the time of day an hour after his watch had been - stolen. Ask any one-legged stranger how he lost his - limb, and you will get something like this: “Well, - you see, it was this way—I got run over by a - ferryboat.”</p> - - <p>Of all the many friends I have made since I gave - up my larcenous life, “Shorty” is one of the most - respected and highly prized. His friends are legion, - and in every state in the Union; not that Shorty - has traveled there and made friends of them, but that - they have traveled here and made a friend of him.</p> - - <p>Shorty’s news stand is on a busy corner in the - shadow of a skyscraper owned by ex-Senator Phelan, - one of California’s most distinguished men, and there, - under his patronage and protection, he stands on his - stumps (“cut-down legs” he calls them), early and late, - serving thousands with papers and periodicals. He - hobnobs with doctors, lawyers, business men, and - politicians. He finds lost children and dogs, and returns them - to their owners. Shopgirls and strangers ask him which - is the best show of the week. Men around town - consult him about the chances of a horse in to-morrow’s - race. He can borrow more money on his I.O.U. - than many business men in his block and pays on the - minute. He is no stranger at the banks on the - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span>opposite corners. His reputation for truth and veracity - is such that if he were to tell me the water had all - disappeared from the bay I wouldn’t go down to look.</p> - - <p>Traveling in search of adventure when young, he - lost his legs under a train, but instead of despairing - and sinking under this terrible misfortune, he braced - himself and, picking out a bare corner on the street, - built up, day by day, year by year, a business that has - made him independent and respected. I stopped one - day at his stand, and, looking at his massive chest, - broad shoulders, and fine head, I saw him in fancy - a splendid figure of a man towering ruggedly above - his fellows.</p> - - <p>“Shorty,” I asked, “how tall were you before you - lost your legs?”</p> - - <p>He flashed me a savage look; then remembering we - were friends his eyes fell to his stumps and he said - with a laugh, “Oh, I was taller by two feet.”</p> - - <p>That’s all one gets by asking questions that wake - painful memories.</p> - - <p>From my position on the bench I could see every - prisoner brought to the desk. About ten o’clock there - was a stir in the hall and several policemen came in - with Chinamen from a gambling-house raid. This - was before they had cut off their queues, and instead - of handcuffing their prisoners the cops came in driving - the silent, stolid Chinese before them like charioteers. - Each cop had the tails of three Chinamen’s queues - in each hand. Ahead of the procession walked a white - man with a heavy bag of gold in his hand which he - put on the desk, and waited till the names of the - prisoners had been taken. Then they all went back up the - corridor out of my sight—the Chinamen back to - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span>Chinatown to their gambling, and the bag of gold into - the bond-and-warrant clerk’s office to insure their - appearance in court.</p> - - <p>Several times during the night men were brought - in, questioned at great length, searched thoroughly, - and led away to another part of the prison—felony - cases. About midnight two young fellows about my - age were brought in by a copper and stood up before - the desk.</p> - - <p>“Vag these two ‘hypos,’” said the cop to the desk - man. He searched them most carefully, finding a - small package in the torn lining of one’s coat. The - boy begged for it piteously. “I’ll croak, officer, if - you take it away from me.” The cop gave him to the - waiting trusty. “Throw him in.” He was put in - with us. Nothing was found on the other hypo, and - he was “thrown in” too.</p> - - <p>They immediately began comparing notes and - taking stock, walking up and down the center of the cell - nervously. They were in rags and unwashed, their - shoes were broken and had no laces, and the tops - flapped open showing their bare ankles. They seemed - utterly unconscious of their sad condition and walked - and talked as briskly as two brokers on Montgomery - Street discussing the markets.</p> - - <p>“He got my plant, Georgie,” said the first one, “but - you saved yours, didn’t you, Georgie? Gee, Georgie, - but you’re a fox.” His tones were honey.</p> - - <p>“Never mind that,” the other replied; “you don’t - have to ‘Georgie’ me. You’re in with what ‘gow’ I’ve - got. Let’s bang it up before they come in and take - it away from us. See if you can hustle some matches.”</p> - - <p>The match seeker glanced sharply around him. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span>When his eye fell on me I produced some matches. - “Got any smokes?” I handed him a pack of - cigarettes. He took two, gave one to his partner, Georgie, - and returned the pack. His mind seemed detached - from the cell. He took the matches and cigarettes - from me without a word, as if he had reached up to - a mantel and taken them off it. Georgie fished about - the front of his trousers and brought up a tobacco - sack that had been hanging suspended from a button. - The sack contained his “plant,” an eye dropper with - a hypodermic needle soldered to it with sealing wax, - and a small paper of morphine in a little tin box.</p> - - <p>They went to a back corner of the cell and prepared - their shot. About a spoonful of water and some of - their meager store of “morph” were put in the tin - box and matches were burned under it till it boiled, - completely dissolving the morphine. It was then - drawn up into the eye dropper, and Georgie injected - his portion into his arm. The other boy did the same - with his portion. Their outfit was carefully put away - in the tobacco bag and suspended again from a button - down inside the front of Georgie’s trousers. Nobody - paid any attention to them. They took their shot as - coolly as if they had been in their room, or under a - sidewalk. They seemed a little more interested in - their surroundings in a few minutes. The one I gave - the cigarettes to came over to me rubbing his hands - briskly, smiling.</p> - - <p>“Give us a couple more of them smokes, young - fellow.”</p> - - <p>“I’d like to buy some,” I said, “if I could.”</p> - - <p>“Got money?”</p> - - <p>“Yes, a couple of dollars.”</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span>“I’ll fix it for you,” he said most condescendingly. - He went over to the bars and shouted, “Hey, - Finnerty!”</p> - - <p>In a minute the head trusty, a thin, weazened, - rat-eyed, undersized character, came up.</p> - - <p>“Cigarettes, matches? Sure. Anything else?”</p> - - <p>I produced a dollar.</p> - - <p>“What’s the matter with a can of coffee and some - snails?” said the hypo.</p> - - <p>“Get whatever you can,” I said, giving him the - dollar.</p> - - <p>Finnerty disappeared, and in a surprisingly short - time came back with cigarettes, a gallon fruit tin half - full of splendid coffee, and a bag of snails. The two - young fellows took charge of the coffee and snails, - spread a newspaper on the floor, and very cordially - invited me to help myself.</p> - - <p>While we were having our lunch the talk was - diplomatically turned to dope and the shortage that - menaced my two hypo friends and the sufferings they - would undergo when there was no more and the - “habit” came on, and the necessity for a shot in - the morning as a bracer for them when they faced the - judge. They grew so despondent over their plight - that when we were done eating they decided to “shoot - up” the small portion of white stuff they had left. - They brightened up after this operation was over, and - things looked rosier.</p> - - <p>“Just think, Georgie,” said the talkative one, - looking at me, “what a four-bit piece would do for us. - What a life-saver! We’ll both get a ‘sixer’ in the - morning if we go in front of the judge with our - teeth rattlin’ so we can’t put up a talk. If I had a - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span>decent shot for the morning I could talk him out - of it.</p> - - <p>“And that rat, Finnerty, the trusty,” the talker - spoke to me now, “has got a ton of it out there to - sell, but he wouldn’t give us a jolt if we had the - horrors.”</p> - - <p>“Can you buy it from Finnerty?” I asked him, - interested.</p> - - <p>“Can you? Why, that guy Finnerty would peddle - you a six-shooter and a road map if you had the coin, - and then snitch on you to the desk sergeant, the rat,” - he finished.</p> - - <p>At that time morphine and opium were almost as - cheap as tobacco. Fifty cents’ worth would last them - a day. I hastily dug up a half dollar and gave it to - him. In answer to his call Finnerty appeared, took - the half dollar, and from his shirt pocket drew a - bundle of neatly folded packets of morphine. In - plain sight of the desk sergeant he counted out the - required number of parcels and put them into the - purchaser’s hand extended through the bars. They were - divided at once.</p> - - <p>Georgie said to his partner. “I think we’d better - cook up a shot just to see if the stuff is all right. That - Finnerty would peddle you chloride of lime if he - happened to run out of ‘morph.’” This seemed to be a - very rational reason for taking another shot, and they - did.</p> - - <p>Given a sufficient quantity of hop, no fiend is ever - at a loss for a sound reason for taking a jolt of it. - If he is feeling bad he takes a jolt so he will feel good. - If he is feeling good, he takes one to make him feel - better, and if he is feeling neither very bad nor very - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span>good he takes a jolt “just to get himself straightened - around.”</p> - - <p>Along about two in the morning a young chap about - twenty was brought in to the desk. While he was - being searched the two hypos had their eyes glued on - him. “He ain’t got a dime,” said Georgie to his - partner when the searching was done. The desk man - gave the young fellow his cigarettes and he was locked - in with us. He was neat, well dressed, and very wise - looking. He sniffed at the hypos, gave me half a - glance, adjusted his tie, and polished his shoes by - rubbing each foot on the back of the opposite leg. - He hung a cigarette on his lower lip and felt about - for matches, but found none.</p> - - <p>“Hey, you,” snapping his fingers at Georgie, - “gimme a match.” Georgie gave him a few. “I’ll - be out of here in an hour,” said the newcomer, - inhaling his smoke. “I’ll send you in anything you want. - I’m a quick connector. I can get a ten-dollar piece - before I get out of the block—sucker born every - minute, you know.”</p> - - <p>“Yes, I know,” Georgie replied. “I’m sorry for - them poor suckers. They’re all asleep down in the - Palace Hotel and you’re up here in the can begging - matches. There’s one born every minute, all right, - but there’s two wise guys going to jail every minute, - an’ beggin’ matches.”</p> - - <p>The wise guy said no more, but stood by the door - waiting to go out. He was standing there when I left - in the morning.</p> - - <p>Georgie turned to his companion. “That last shot - didn’t hit me right; we’d better cook up another an’ - begin to get straightened up for court.”</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span>Having bought the stuff for them, I took the - liberty to sit by while they took their shot, which they - did without seeming to notice me. Their bony arms - were gray, like pieces of petrified wood. The skin - was pocked with marks, mottled and scarred from - the repeated, hourly stabbing of the needle. Their - shirt sleeves were encrusted with dried blood from - the many punctures. And yet they appeared oblivious - to it all.</p> - - <p>“Have a little shot, young fellow?” Georgie asked - cordially.</p> - - <p>I declined. “What would happen to me if I did?” - I asked.</p> - - <p>“Why, nothing; you’d lie down on the bench and - sleep like a baby till time to go out in the morning, - that’s all.”</p> - - <p>“Yes! And what would happen to the balance of - my silver while I am sleeping like a baby?”</p> - - <p>Georgie’s partner cut in like a flash: “This is what - would happen. Me and Georgie would stick right - here by you and see that nobody frisked you for it.”</p> - - <p>I laughed so loud that the desk officer thinking some - one had gone hysterical, stood up sleepily and peered - over his desk into the cell. The other bums stirred - uneasily in their sleep. Mine was the only laugh there - that night. I could laugh then; I didn’t know - anything about hop.</p> - - <p>My companions didn’t seem hurt or offended because - of my intimation that they had designs on my last - four-bit piece. They fell to discussing their case and - preparing a talk for the judge in the morning. - Georgie was for pleading guilty, and his chum wanted - to “talk the judge out of it.” They couldn’t agree, - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span>and looked at me. I ventured to ask what they had - done.</p> - - <p>“We’ve got two tough raps,” said Georgie. “In - the first place a hypo ain’t supposed to be found within - a block of police headquarters, an’ we’re grabbed right - alongside of the building. In the second place, a hypo - ain’t allowed to leave Chinatown. Of course the cops - know we sneak out. That ain’t so bad. Our racket - is peddling kindling wood to the Chinks an’ we’ve got - to go out of Chinatown to get it. Last night we ducks - out and down Jackson Street to the commission houses - and gather up a couple of fine bindles of wood. They - are pretty heavy and we’re on short rations of gow and - don’t feel any too strong, so we decide to dash up - Washington Street, the shortest route into Chinatown. - We’re bang up against the city prison when a big, - flat-footed, harness bull steps out an’ yaffles us—an’ here - we are.”</p> - - <p>Their case looked so tough that I could think of no - solution. “I wouldn’t plead guilty to anything if I - were you,” I advised him.</p> - - <p>“Me, neither,” said his partner. “If I get six - months they’ll have to hang them on me. I ain’t going - to reach out an’ grab them.”</p> - - <p>They fell into a fresh argument and their words - became so personal and threatening that I feared they - would do each other some great violence. I took a - chance in the rôle of peacemaker and suggested that - they take another shot and talk it over peaceably and - quietly. They quit their wrangling instantly and in a - minute they were on their knees in the corner of the - cell with their heads together, amicably preparing - another shot. Somewhere down the corridor I heard - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span>a clatter, and a singsong voice droned, “Get ready - for the broom. Get ready for the broom.”</p> - - <p>I was going out. I went over to my friends in the - corner with the fifty-cent piece I had left. “Here,” I - said, “take this.” One of them, still on his knees - waiting for his shot, held out his hand; his fingers closed - on the half dollar. He neither looked up nor spoke - to me—his eyes were on the little tin can where the - morphine was dissolving in the boiling water.</p> - - <p>The door was opened and my name called.</p> - - <p>I stood by the door till a trusty prisoner opened it - and let me out. My partner from the wine dump - was also taken out and we joined four or five others - in the corridor. A trusty came with an armful of - brooms and gave each of us one. A husky young - fellow, half awake, reached for one of the newest brooms. - “No, you don’t,” said the trusty, “the last time you - were here I gave you a good new broom and you beat - it up to Chinktown and peddled it for a dime. An old - broom for you.”</p> - - <p>We were detailed in pairs to sweep the sidewalks - clean all around the block the prison stood on. My - space was from the prison door down to Montgomery - Street. An old man had the sidewalk across the street - from me. Two or three assistant trusties nosed around - like bird dogs to see that we swept clean and didn’t - run away with the brooms. When my task was done - I helped the old man finish his, and he carried my - broom back to the prison. The trusty dismissed me - with a wave of his arm and I went up Montgomery - Street in search of a restaurant where I could get - some coffee with a dime I had saved from the - rapacious and cunning hypos in the prison. I decided to - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span>keep away from the wine dumps in future, and out - of the hands of the police vag detail that rounded up - the riffraff when they got too numerous and pesty.</p> - - <p>In a few days Sanc was back, quite satisfied with his - trip to Salt Chunk Mary’s. The money was split and - put in our box in separate parcels. We had more than - $1,000 each now, but he had no notion of taking a - rest or vacation. He wanted to know right away what - I had done in his absence. I reported everything, - including my night in jail. He asked me what I told - the police at the station. I told him. “Not bad,” he - said, “but be careful.”</p> - - <p>I gave him the hotel room keys I had made, and - he complimented me on my work and put them away - for future use.</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIII</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">Having</span> plenty of time and spending money I visited - San Jose, towns down the peninsula, and across the - bay—always with an eye to business. Jewelry-store - windows are fascinating to the thief. He must stop - and look over the sparkling plunder. Even in these - days of my regeneration I stop occasionally from habit - at a jewelry-store window. Usually there are others - looking, too!</p> - - <p>I paused before a jewelry-store window in Oakland - one evening, just at closing time. The clerks were - clearing it out for the night. In the center of the - display stood a slim, polished wood pedestal, on top - of which, in a velvet cup, reposed an enormous ruby, - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span>the size of my thumb nail, set in a ring. A placard - announced that this pigeon-blood ruby, valued at three - thousand dollars, was to be awarded by some - organization, the name of which I don’t recall, to the winner - of a contest they were holding.</p> - - <p>The window was cleaned up, the display put away - for the night, but the ruby was left on its pedestal - when the store was closed. I got the next boat across - and found Sanc. We went back to Oakland and got - to the store about eleven o’clock.</p> - - <p>“I don’t know anything about rubies, kid, but if it’s - left there all night it’s phony.”</p> - - <p>Just then two men came along, entered the store, - and, locking the door behind them, went to the window - and got the stone. They disappeared toward the back - of the store.</p> - - <p>“It must be genuine, kid. They are putting it away - in the ‘box.’”</p> - - <p>As we walked away, Sanc said: “The window has - a burglar alarm. You can see the tape around the - edges. If I could devise some way to put an inch hole - through the glass without cracking it clear across to - the tape, the alarm would not sound and I could take - the stone out with a stiff wire. To-morrow night I’ll - try something I have long thought of.”</p> - - <p>The next day he bought at a second-hand store a - small machinist’s hammer, weighing about a pound. - One face of it was thick, heavy, and flat, the other was - rounded to a nose about the size of a boy’s marble. - He bought a whipstock of tough, springy wood and - made a handle about eighteen inches long, which he - fitted into the hammer.</p> - - <p>For several nights we went around to new buildings - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span>and into deserted streets where there were plate-glass - windows of a weight corresponding with the one in - Oakland. Sanc used his hammer like a whip, - snapping the noselike face of it against windows till he - became so expert he could make a hole as clean as if it - had been done by a bullet, and without cracking the - glass for more than six inches from it.</p> - - <p>“Vandalism, they will call it,” he said after - destroying probably five hundred dollars’ worth of glass, “but - in reality it is a scientific experiment and a success.” - The impact of the hammer sounded very much like the - breaking of a piece of kindling wood under foot. At - last we were ready, and Sanc, as usual, gave me final - instructions.</p> - - <p>“Oakland is a tough town to take a pinch in, kid. - You can’t fix your case, and you’ll get the limit if - convicted. I’ll take a gun along. You needn’t. There - isn’t much you can do. When the bull is out of the - block and pedestrians are a couple of doors away I - will do the best I can. You stand near by and if - anybody gets wise to me, you shout to him: ‘Look out, - he’s got a gun. Let’s get a policeman!’”</p> - - <p>At nine o’clock we passed the window. A crowd - was admiring the ring. At ten the pedestrians had - thinned out, and half an hour later Sanc’s chance came.</p> - - <p>The store was in the middle of a block. The - patrolman was at the corner going farther away. - Everything was exactly right. A passing electric car - swallowed the noise of the breaking glass. Sanc - disengaged the hammer’s nose from the hole carefully with - a rasping noise. The hammer went into his coat - pocket, and the wire came from beneath his coat. The - top of the pedestal where the ruby rested was higher - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span>than the hole in the window, and when Sanc lifted the - ring on his wire it slid slowly down and out into his - hand. He threw the wire into the street and walked - away. I followed behind and overtook him at the - corner. A few blocks farther away he tossed the - hammer into a lot. We sat apart on the train to the ferry - and on the boat across to the city.</p> - - <p>In my room Sanc removed the ruby from its setting, - which I immediately took out and threw into a near-by - sewer opening. When I returned he was admiring the - stone. “There’s a stone, kid, that, as Shakespeare - says, ‘A Jew would kiss and an Infidel adore.’”</p> - - <p>The Sanctimonious Kid’s face wore a serious look - the next evening when we met to go to dinner. “Kid,” - he said, “the more I think of this wonderful - pigeon-blood ruby the less I think of it, if you understand - what I mean. It is possible that we put too much faith - in the integrity of the business firm that displayed it - so carelessly. I was out to the park to-day and gave - the thing a careful inspection in the sunlight, and there - is a cold, clammy suspicion in my mind that we have - been swindled—in short, I am afraid the thing is a - rank phony.</p> - - <p>“And the worst of it is there’s not one person in - five thousand who knows a real ruby when he sees it. - There are probably three men in San Francisco who - would know, but they are all square business men and - we can’t submit it to any of them. The next nearest - man is the buyer for the big Mormon store, Zion’s - Co-operative Mercantile Institution, at Salt Lake City. I - will take a run back there with it and get some one to - have him give an opinion on it. If it’s genuine I can - get a thousand dollars on it. I’ll be gone about - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span>two weeks, and this is what I want you to do while - I am away.</p> - - <p>“Put on your best clothes, keep clean and neat, and - spend your evenings around the Diamond Palace in - Montgomery Street. Go through the whole block on - both sides of the street. Look into every hallway, - basement, empty store, and saloon. Try to locate - some place that we can go through and out into an - alley or another street. The getaway’s the thing, and - if you can find one in the block we’ll chance the - Diamond Palace some evening, maybe Christmas Eve.”</p> - - <p>He left next morning after giving me strict orders - to keep away from the wine dumps and attend to - business. I worked faithfully and soon found half a - dozen places that would serve. My time was now - my own, and once more I began exploring the byways - of the city.</p> - - <p>The hypos I spent the night with in the city prison - had aroused my curiosity about Chinatown. I put - in many nights prowling through the alleys watching - these mysterious people gambling, smoking opium, and - trafficking in their women slaves. There were rumors - of strange, mysterious underground passages below the - streets and under the buildings, but I never saw them - and I have since come to doubt whether they ever - existed.</p> - - <p>The spots most favored in Chinatown by the hypos - and small beggars were the “cook ovens,” places built - in back of Chinese lodging houses where the occupants - did their cooking on the community plan. There were - warm places around the ovens to sleep in, and always - a bite to eat for the asking—no Chinaman refuses to - feed a hungry man.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span>In my experience with the Chinese I have found - them charitable, frugal, thrifty, moral, and honest.</p> - - <p>In speaking of the cook ovens I may say that it was - there the word “yegg” originated. It has not yet been - locked in the dictionary, but it has a place in our - language and it’s about time its derivation was settled - once and for all. It is a corruption of “yekk,” a word - from one of the many dialects spoken in Chinatown, - and it means beggar. When a hypo or beggar - approached a Chinaman to ask for something to eat, - he was greeted with the exclamation, “yekk man, yekk - man.”</p> - - <p>The underworld is quick to seize upon strange - words, and the bums and hypos in Chinatown were - calling themselves yeggmen years before the term was - taken out on the road and given currency by eastbound - beggars. In no time it had a verb hung on it, and to - yegg meant to beg.</p> - - <p>The late William A. Pinkerton was responsible for - its changed meaning. His business consisted largely - of asking questions and necessarily he acquired much - misinformation. A burglar with some humor fell into - Pinkerton’s hands and when asked who was breaking - open the country “jugs” he whispered to the detective - that it was the yeggs. Investigation convinced - Pinkerton that there were a lot of men drifting about the - country who called themselves yeggs. The word went - into a series of magazine articles Pinkerton was writing - at the time and was fastened upon the “box” men. Its - meaning has since widened until now the term “yegg” - includes all criminals whose work is “heavy.”</p> - - <p>Sanc returned in a very hostile frame of mind. - “We’ve been bilked, kid. It was a French imitation. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span>Been on the market ten years. I sold it to Tom - Dennison, who runs the Wasatch gambling house in - ‘The Lake,’ for a hundred and fifty dollars, just - enough to pay expenses. If you locate a few more - capers like that you’ll put us in the poorhouse.”</p> - - <p>I reported my findings in Montgomery Street, and - Sanc after looking them over carefully pronounced two - of the getaways feasible.</p> - - <p>“Kid,” he said, “I read in the papers some time - ago that a man named Charlie Rice, in New York - City, put on a cheap, black alpaca coat, put his cap in - his pocket, and with a pencil on his ear walked into a - bank and behind the counter where there were twenty - clerks at work. Unnoticed, he picked up twenty-five - thousand dollars in bank notes and walked out.</p> - - <p>“That suggested to me that I can walk into this - jewelry store some evening before Christmas when - they will have an extra force of clerks employed, and - go behind the counter if I am dressed like a clerk. - If I can get behind a counter you can surely get in - front of it. I will put a tray of stones out for your - inspection, and you will walk out with it. We will - go over it carefully now.</p> - - <p>“I will walk into the place about seven o’clock some - evening, dressed in a black suit, white shirt, high collar, - and black tie. You will go in directly behind me. You - will carry a harmless-looking parcel that looks like a - box of handkerchiefs neatly wrapped and tied. There - will be no bottom in it. I will walk to the back of - the store where there are two or three settees for - patrons and visitors. You will stroll about near by. - I will leave my derby hat and overcoat on a settee and - try, mind you, try to get behind the main counter. I - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span>am depending upon the fact that the place will be full - of visitors and customers and that there will be a - number of strange clerks and that no one clerk will - know all the others.</p> - - <p>“You will follow my movements closely. When I get - behind the counter I will take out the best tray I - can get and set it on the show case in front of you. - You will put your bottomless package over the tray, - pick it up, put it under your arm, and walk out. We - have two weeks to get ready. We will go down there - separately and look the place over for a week. When - you go in, you rehearse the thing in your mind and - don’t think of anything else for the next ten days.”</p> - - <p>We thought and talked of the Diamond Palace only - for days and days. “Kid,” said Sanc, “I heard ‘Rebel - George’ who invented the gold-brick swindle say: ‘The - way to sell a brass brick is to bunko yourself first into - the belief that your brick is solid gold—the rest is - easy. The most successful bunko man is the one who - bunkoes himself before he goes after a sucker.’</p> - - <p>“I am going to hypnotize myself into the belief that - I am a clerk in that store from the minute I take my - hat off till I put it on. You are a visitor from the - minute you go in till you get your hands on the stones; - then, presto, you are what you are. If we can get one - of the larger trays of stones we can get enough money - on them to go to Salt Lake or Denver, and open a - small gambling house where, while we can’t be entirely - respectable, we can at least be secure. I am at a stage - where I would like to quit. I don’t feel like going to - work as a laborer at two dollars a day, or as a clerk - for fifteen a week. I’m not speaking disparagingly of - them, mind you—fact is, they have more real courage - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span>than we have, working for such wages. But this life - of ours breeds expensive habits of loose, careless - spending that are hard to overcome, and even if I - could swallow my objections to being exploited I would - still find it impossible to survive on the pay.</p> - - <p>“I didn’t jump into this life I’m leading as I jump - into bed, and I can’t get out of it in one jump. I drifted - in by slow degrees, and if I get out I’ll have to ease - out of it by slow stages. A gambling joint would be - the first step away. Then maybe something better - after that. This can all be threshed out later; we must - not let our minds stray from the Diamond Palace.”</p> - - <p>Sanc’s philosophy stood up under our bad luck with - the near-ruby. “Kid,” he said later, “this is the season - of peace on earth and good will to men. Who gives - to the poor lends to the Lord, but when I give anything - to the poor I am going to have a better motive. - However, we are not givers; we are takers, and our taking - should be reasoned out rationally. We will reverse - this ‘giving and lending.’ We will rob the rich and - discomfit the devil; thereby, perhaps, finding favor in - the sight of the Lord. And this brings us to the front - door of the Diamond Palace. It’s one of the city’s - show places and visitors are always welcome. We will - visit it.”</p> - - <p>And we did. Separately, we made several visits in - the evening to familiarize ourselves with the inside, - and to locate the trays of stones. At night in my - room Sanc drew diagrams of the interior and the show - cases. We rehearsed the thing in detail night after - night. He made a neat dummy parcel and drilled me - in placing it over an imitation tray of diamonds; - showed me how to place it under my arm securely yet - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span>carelessly and walk out of the store with entire - nonchalance.</p> - - <p>He bought his black suit, white shirt, and black tie, - put them on and rehearsed his part. We put our - rooms in order, cleaning out everything that might - look suspicious, protecting ourselves against a possible - “pinch.” The hotel keys I had made were put away - carefully against a rainy day—or night. Our money - was taken from the safety box, changed into bank - notes, and secreted in our clothes.</p> - - <p>I asked him about the guns. “No gun for you, Kid. - You might get nervous. Leave yours somewhere. - I’ll take mine along.”</p> - - <p>Christmas was ten days away. Every evening we - dressed for our parts, got barbered, shined, and - slicked up, and walked about the block prepared to - go into the store when it looked right. We made - sure every day that the getaways I had located were - still open.</p> - - <p>“I could make it now,” said Sanc as we stood across - the street the third evening, “but I’ll wait; it’s getting - better every day.”</p> - - <p>His last instructions were: “Now, don’t get - nervous. If you get your hands on the ‘junk’ walk out - quietly and away. If they ‘tumble’ me up before I get - the tray out you fade away. I’ll do the best I can - alone. If there’s a ‘tumble’ after you get the tray - and you are chased, hang on to it and get into one - of the spots you have picked out and when you get - on the other street don’t run; walk briskly direct to - the room. If I’m not there five minutes after you, - I’ll be in jail. I don’t like to think of that, but the - pitcher can go to the well once too often, and it’s - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span>better to know beforehand what you are going to do - when it breaks. If I don’t appear you put the stones - away safely and wait till I send you word. Don’t try - to connect with me.”</p> - - <p>The next evening as I stood looking at the window - display Sanc came by, glanced inside sharply, and - snapped his fingers, which was the “office” to me that - he was going in. I went in about three steps behind - him. All I saw was a fine-looking, elderly man in a - policeman’s uniform walking up the center of the store, - active, alert. When I passed him my heart was - pounding so with suspense that I was afraid he would - hear it.</p> - - <p>Sanc walked straight to the back of the big room - and sat on a settee. I strolled about looking at, but - not seeing, the wonderful display of baubles. The - place was fairly filled with Christmas shoppers and - sightseers. Beautifully gowned women and - distinguished-looking men stood at the counters inspecting - rare stones and costly ornaments. Visitors idled - around and clerks stepped about briskly. Parties of - shoppers were coming in, the place was filling up - with people laughing and chatting.</p> - - <p>There was a little pucker between Sanc’s eyes as - he held his seat, and I knew something was wrong. - Looking closer I saw, facing him and but a few feet - away, an attaché of the place conversing with a party - of women. Sanc was stuck and couldn’t transform - himself into a clerk under the man’s eyes. At last - he moved away. Sanc took off his hat, put it on the - settee, stood up, and stepped smartly toward the front, - a clerk now, and I right behind him with my dummy - parcel.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span>Sanc’s unavoidable delay in transforming himself - into a clerk was fatal to our plan. One glance along - the show cases that contained the most valuable stones - showed us that they were all out and under inspection - by patrons who came in after we did. Time was - precious, worth more than money. He dared not - hesitate. Turning quickly, he crossed the room and - stepped behind the long line of show cases, passed two - busy clerks, and stopped at a case that held a number - of trays of small stones.</p> - - <p>“Now, here’s something, sir,” he said to me as he - reached in and brought out a tray holding one dozen - rings, the best in sight that he could get at. My parcel - was on the show case and he did not wait for me to - act; he placed it on top of the tray and turned away - toward the rear of the store. Shaking with suspense - I managed to pick it up and place it properly under - my arm, holding it closely to my side.</p> - - <p>On the sidewalk I wanted to run, expecting to hear - a hue and cry from the store. In turning the first - corner I looked back. Sanc wasn’t more than twenty - feet behind me. I slowed up for him and we went - straight to the room.</p> - - <p>“Another bunch of rotten luck, kid,” he said, - peeling off his black suit. “This town has me hoodooed. - I’m gone from it to-night, and you had better come - along. Wrap up that suit and throw it away along - with the shirt and tie. I’ll unharness these ‘rocks.’ - We’re lucky if Mary gives us two thousand dollars - on them.”</p> - - <p>In an hour he had them out of their settings, which - I threw away as before. He went to his room for his - few belongings. I threw mine in a bag and we met - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span>at the ferry where we got a boat to Oakland, leaving - nothing behind us but the hotel keys I had made with - such pains and trouble.</p> - - <p>The theft was not reported in the papers. There - may be a record of it in the police archives, for all I - know. “I can’t explain their silence,” said Sanc. - “This much is certain, and it’s the worst part of this - business of ours. Some innocent party is going to ride - the blame. They will never figure that as an outside - caper.”</p> - - <p>The next day we got an eastbound train and in due - time found ourselves in the town of Pocatello, the - stronghold of Salt Chunk Mary. Our knock at her - door was answered by a young and pretty Swedish - girl, blue-eyed and fair-haired. In answer to our call - for Mary she laughed and her big, innocent blue eyes - danced. “Aye tank you have bad luck. Miss Mary - she bane on big yamboree.”</p> - - <p>We went downtown and rented a room. In - Pocatello, as in every other Western town in those days, - it was the correct custom and usage for sporting people - to go on a big jamboree once or twice a year. A - jamboree was usually preceded by a run of good or bad - luck. If the celebrant got hold of a bunch of easy - money he or she “went on a tear” to celebrate the - good luck. If the luck got too bad, the way to change - it was to go out and get drunk. The length of these - celebrations was determined by the size of the party’s - bankroll or the strength of his constitution.</p> - - <p>Salt Chunk Mary’s bankroll had no bottom, and - her constitution was flawless. So it followed that her - periods of relaxation were somewhat extended. Being - a very positive-minded person, inclining to action - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span>rather than words, her procedure at these times - differed greatly from the ordinary. When she “went - on a toot” the town marshal went fishing or hunting, - and her more timid business rivals closed their places - and remained in a state of siege like storekeepers in - Chinatown when a tong war was declared. It was her - custom to visit her friends’ places first, where - friendships were renewed and emphasized by much spending - and drinking, and where obligations were - acknowledged and discharged promptly. She poured liquor - into the bums, beggars, ragtags, and bobtails that hung - around the saloons till they were legless drunk, and - unable to follow her triumphal march through the - town. She never let up for the want of money, nor - because of inability to “carry her licker.” Her - jamboree closed when she had “made” the last place in - town and that was always the joint of some one she - held a grudge against.</p> - - <p>Sanc and I were fortunate enough to witness the - wind-up of one of her most memorable celebrations. - Leaving her hack at the curb, she walked into her - victim’s saloon and ordered all hands to drink. When - the drinks were disposed of and paid for, she put - both hands on the inner edge of the bar and pulled - it over on the floor. Out of the wreckage she gathered - an armful of bottles. One of them was accurately - hurled into the mirror, and the remainder at anybody - in sight. The boss, bartender, and saloon bums - disappeared out the back way and Mary stalked out - the front. On the sidewalk she threw away her - hat, tore up what money she had left, and crawled into - her waiting hack. Inside she kicked all the glass out, - lay down on the back seat, and, with her feet out - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span>through the broken window, was driven home in state - while the town stood mute.</p> - - <p>We allowed her a couple of days to recuperate - before calling. When we appeared she welcomed us - as usual with an invitation to eat from the bottomless - bean pot. Sanc threw her the small parcel of stones - which she examined carefully with practiced eye, and - a high-powered glass. Commercial white diamonds - were sixty dollars a carat, wholesale, then, and when - she offered us eighteen hundred dollars we took them, - satisfied.</p> - - <p>We jumped to Denver, where Sanc got the dice-game - concession in the “Chicken Coop,” a small gambling - house. We had three thousand dollars between us. - Two thousand went into the bankroll and we opened - up bravely. “Soapy Smith,” gambler and bunko man, - noted for his high plays and big winnings and losings, - won our two thousand in three successive plays. Sanc - wanted to continue with the balance of our money, - but I refused and stubbornly held on to my last five - hundred. We had to quit.</p> - - <p>Sanc was a hard loser and followed “Soapy” around - town for a week trying to “elevate” him. He never - got away from the bright lights, and Sanc gave up the - notion of sticking him up.</p> - - <p>We located a big poker game in a soft spot and - decided to “line up” the players. The biggest - gamblers in town sat there nightly and there were - thousands of dollars in sight. After many nights of - careful checking, we were ready to go against it.</p> - - <p>Robbery has none of the complications of burglary. - It is simple as one, two, three. You get it or you - don’t.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span>Sanc with a gun in his hand opened the door softly. - I was behind him. The players, six of them, were - in the midst of a “big play.” None looked up. At the - opposite side of the table, facing us, scrutinizing his - cards, sat Bat Masterson, the last of the real bad men, - the fastest man alive with a gun, and with a record - of twenty killings while marshal of Dodge City, - Kansas.</p> - - <p>Sanc closed the door on the absorbed poker players - as softly as he had opened it, and “officed” me to - follow him out. “What’s wrong?” I asked.</p> - - <p>“Nothing but this, Kid. Bat Masterson is sitting in - the game. He has a reputation as a killer and he - earned it. When he was marshal of Dodge City bad - men rode from the Texas Panhandle and from - Deadwood, Dakota, to shoot it out with him, and he - dropped them all. Nobody knows how many; he - probably don’t know himself. He beat them all to - the ‘pull’ and even now, when he is not exactly young, - he is the fastest human being with a gun. All he has - left is his reputation, and he would die rather than - lose it to a couple of ‘stick-ups.’ If I had him in a - dark street I wouldn’t hesitate to ‘throw him up’ and - he would ‘go up’ too, but he would never stand for - it with others looking on. I could have put the gun - on him, said: ‘Masterson, I know you; I’ll kill you - if you bat an eye,’ and you could have started to - gather up their coin. So far, so good; but if the brim - of your hat or the tip of your shoulder had got between - Mr. Masterson and my eye he would have ‘pulled’ on - us and I would have had to let go at him. If I - didn’t kill or disable him with the first shot, he’d have - slaughtered the pair of us.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span>“I’m not afraid of him, but I am not knowingly - going to put myself in the position of killing anybody - for his money. When Masterson sits in a game, he - lays a gun on his lap. His life is forfeit to any - ambitious young bad man looking for a reputation. - Anybody but a ‘stick-up’ could kill him and get away - with it, if he were fast enough or dirty enough to - shoot him in the back. He has the right to sit with a - gun on his lap, and besides, it gives him just a slight - psychological edge on the other players.</p> - - <p>“In short, Kid, I don’t want any of - Mr. Batterson Masterson’s money by the stick-up route. There - are a lot of bad men here getting by on gall, but he has - guts and I flatter myself that I’ve been around enough - to know the difference. That’s my philosophy, Kid; - you can take it or leave it,” he concluded.</p> - - <p>That was the tribute Sanc, who killed one man and - was hanged, paid Bat Masterson, who killed twenty - and died peacefully in his bed at a ripe and respected - old age.</p> - - <p>Then came a night when the Sanctimonious Kid - failed to show up at the room. I was worried and - made the rounds of the gambling houses, joints, and - hangouts, but failed to find him or anybody who had - seen him. My fears were put to rest later when - Soapy Smith, who won our bankroll, appeared in the - “Missouri House” and told with the good grace of a - man who had lost fortunes how he had been “taken” - by a “stick-up” man for fifteen hundred dollars.</p> - - <p>“It was the first time in a year I had been off - Larimer Street, and it serves me right,” he laughed. - “Anyway, I know him and told him so; and I’m going to kill - him on sight.”</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span>“Soapy,” Jefferson Smith, was a colorful character - of the West, the educated, refined, renegade son of a - distinguished Southern family who turned his wits to - crooked ways. When his luck at the faro tables - switched and left him broke, he mounted his box on - a corner and sold nickel bars of soap for fifty cents - and one dollar. The fifty-cent bars were guaranteed - to contain a five-dollar bill and the dollar ones a ten. - The bills were wrapped with the soap in plain view - of the prospective purchasers, and when he finished - his “spiel” the rush was on.</p> - - <p>His “cappers,” “boosters,” and “shills” fought with - the yokels for a chance to get something for nothing - and always beat them to the pieces of soap containing - the money.</p> - - <p>As a sleight-of-hand man Soapy had no equal off the - stage. When the Gentiles wrested the Salt Lake City - government from the Mormons, Soapy was brought - out from Denver and sat as an election judge in the - busiest polling booth in the city. Equipped with a - poker player’s “sleeve holdout” he “went out” with - enough Mormon ballots to swing a close election in - favor of a “clean city administration.”</p> - - <p>Always a pioneer, he joined the gold rush to the - Klondike. He was killed at Skagway, later, by a bully - in the pay of the “Vigilance Committee.”</p> - - <p>After the robbery Sanc disappeared, and it was - long till I saw him again. I decided to leave Denver. - I owed them fifteen days on the chain gang, and had - no wish to pay by shoveling snow in the streets. I - bought a ticket to Butte, Montana, regretting the - money but not caring to “hit the road” in the dead of - winter across half a dozen of the coldest states in the - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span>Union. I did it in after years, but it was from - necessity—not choice.</p> - - <p>Butte was never a “Wild West” town in the - accepted sense. Cowboys were seldom seen. Miners - and gamblers ruled the town. The miners were - orderly, hard workers, deep drinkers, and fair fighters. - They had none of the cheap, shouldering swagger of - the “gold-rush” miner. Nearly everybody owned a - gun, but the bullying, gun-toting, would-be bad men - and killers never flourished in Butte. When one of - them got peeved and started to lug out his “cannon” - some hard-fisted miner beefed him like an ox with a - fast one to the jaw, and kicked his “gat” out into the - street where small boys scrambled for it.</p> - - <p>The mines were worked by Irishmen and “Cousin - Jacks” (Cornishmen), who settled their differences - with good, solid blows and despised the use of - weapons. Gambling flourished and was licensed in - Montana by an act of legislature. The possession of any - crooked gambling device was a felony. Consequently - the cheap cheaters and tinhorn, shoestring gamblers - never got a footing there. Many of the faro dealers - never made a bet of their own money, and many - professional players were married men, who looked after - their families faithfully, feeding and educating their - children with money honestly and systematically won - over the faro layouts. Everybody gambled. - Messenger boys stopped to make a bet. The copper on - the beat would walk in and bet “two and a half to win - breakfast money.” If he won his “two and a half” - he went out satisfied. If he lost it, he got “stuck,” - forgot all about his beat, sat down, and “played in” - his bankroll.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span>The town boasted of an all-night barber shop and - a clothing store that never closed, for the convenience - of late-at-night winners who couldn’t hold on to their - winnings till morning.</p> - - <p>As I watched a game my first night in Butte, a - seedy, torn-out looking chap stepped up to the layout - and made a bet. He won it, and, expertly shifting - his checks about, won a dozen more bets before the - deal closed. “Gimme money,” he said to the dealer, - pushing his checks in, “I’m going to get dressed up - this time.” He took off his rusty derby hat and tore - the crown out of it. Putting his hands behind him, - he grasped the tails of his frock coat and with a jerk - ripped it up the back clear to the collar. Money in - hand he sought the all-night store, and came back in - an hour, spick and span from head to heel.</p> - - <p>I experimented and soon laid a solid foundation for - the faro-bank habit which fastened on me later and - kept me broke for years.</p> - - <p>Another night a player at the table who had lost - steadily for an hour placed his last stack of checks - on a card, saying to the dealer, “Turn the cards, Sam, - that’s the last button on Gabe’s coat.” The cards - were turned and the player lost.</p> - - <p>As he was leaving, I looked at him closer, and was - sure I knew him. I got up and stuck my hand out to - him. He took it curiously. “You are George,” I - said, “the gentleman who made my fight in the Kansas - City jail the night of my first ‘pinch.’”</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIV</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">George</span> smiled and took a better grip on my hand. - “Yes, I remember you, young fellow. You’ve grown - some. Have you gathered any wisdom?”</p> - - <p>“I’ve gathered enough to know that you are entitled - to any part of this,” I said, producing my small - bankroll.</p> - - <p>“This is payable to-morrow night,” he said, taking - twenty dollars.</p> - - <p>The money was returned promptly and a bond of - friendship and confidence was formed that remains - unbroken. I came to know him as “Rebel George,” - prince of bunko men, the man who developed and - perfected the “gold-brick” swindle. After stealing a - fortune and losing it at faro bank, he quit in answer to - the prayers of his faithful wife, who had for years - shared his vicissitudes in and out of prison. At the - age of sixty, prison bent and money broke, he started - life on the level and when last I heard of him he was - in a fair way to succeed in his small business.</p> - - <p>From Butte I journeyed to Spokane, Washington, - and then to Seattle. I marvel now that I did not stop - in one of those spots of golden opportunity and go - to work. With the money I would have saved in a - couple of years I could have bought land or lots that - would have made me independent in ten years. I - think land hunger is inherited. I had no desire then, - nor have I now, to own land. The desire to possess - land, whether inherent or acquired, appears to me to - be a sure safeguard against a wasted, dissolute, - harmful life.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span>I had now become so saturated with the - underworld atmosphere that no thought of any kind of - honest endeavor entered my mind. Fully realizing - their value, I passed by many splendid opportunities in - the booming Western towns; not that I was lazy or - indolent, but that business and the hoarding of money - had no attraction. I will leave it to the scientists and - investigators to explain why Johnnie Jones lands in - a pulpit, and his chum next door, with equal - opportunity, lands in a penitentiary. It’s too deep for me. - I know I never had any money sense and never will - have, and I know that had I been blessed, or cursed, - with land hunger and money sense I would to-day have - more honest dollars than I ever had crooked dimes.</p> - - <p>Twenty years of moderate application to his - business will make most any man independent. In twenty - years a journeyman mechanic will handle more money - than a first-class burglar, and at the end of that time - he will have a home and a family and a little money - in the bank, while the most persistent, sober, and - industrious burglar is lucky to have his liberty. He is - too old to learn a trade, too old and broken from - doing time to tackle hard labor. Nobody will give - him work. He has the prison horrors, and turns to - cheap larcenies and spends the balance of his life doing - short sentences in small jails.</p> - - <p>In rare instances the broken thief finds friends, - sympathetic, understanding, and ready to help him. - Strong and kindly hands at his elbows ease him over - the hard spots and direct him to some useful place in - the world. Some understand such kindness and - respond by breasting the current and battling upstream - with their best strokes; others do not, or can not - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span>understand, and, like dead fish, float down and away - forever.</p> - - <p>My apprenticeship under the Sanctimonious Kid was - all that could be desired by either of us, yet my - education was far from finished. At Seattle, almost broke, - and doubtful about being able to do anything worth - while by myself, I cast about for a “sidekicker.” - Seattle was rebuilding after her big fire. Money was - plentiful, and I never saw such an aggregation of - beggars, tramps, thieves, and yeggs as were gathered - there. Gambling, prostitution, and the smuggling of - opium flourished unmolested. The thieves hung out in - Clancey’s gambling house, and were protected and - exploited by him. They thought Clancey was a little - “Hinky Dink” in a little Chicago.</p> - - <p>Every time a thief showed up with a hundred - dollars he was “pinched,” but Clancey took him out in - an hour—for the hundred. When it was too late - they found out that it was he who had them “pinched.” - Clancey died broke.</p> - - <p>In Clancey’s I found “St. Louis Frank,” a product - of Kerry Patch, a poor quarter of St. Louis, Missouri. - I knew him from the bums’ “convention” at Pocatello, - where I met him first. He was clean looking and - healthy and I liked him. About my own age, he was - an honest, industrious, intelligent thief.</p> - - <p>One night as we were looking around one of the - smaller gambling houses, all the lights went out - suddenly, but before we could get our hands on any of the - money, they came on again. This started us to - figuring a way to put them out at a given time when one - of us could stand near a table and grab the bankroll. - We found where the wires entered the building, and - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span>Frank volunteered to cut them if I would stand inside - by the faro game and snatch the bankroll which was - lying exposed in an open drawer beside the dealer. - It looked so good that we enlisted two other - “Johnsons,” one to plant himself by the dice game, and the - other by the roulette wheel. All three of us were to - be in readiness to make a grab when the lights went - out and make our way out of the building in the - darkness.</p> - - <p>Saturday night, when the biggest play was on, - Frank made his way to the roof and we took up our - posts inside.</p> - - <p>I took a position by the faro game. The drawer - that held the bankroll was so situated that a - right-handed man would be handicapped in reaching for - the money. Being left-handed, the spot fell to me. - The drawer was open and the big leather pocketbook - containing the money was lying in the bottom of it in - plain sight, and not two feet from where I stood. The - second man, in charge of the game, the “lookout,” sat - in a high chair at the dealer’s right. One of his feet - was resting on the edge of the open drawer, and I - saw at a glance that if he jammed the drawer shut - with his foot when the lights went out he would trap - my hand.</p> - - <p>While I was thinking that over, Frank cut the wires - and everybody in the big room did just what we - expected; they remained perfectly still for a second - waiting for the light to come on.</p> - - <p>My hand was on the big fat “poke.” I heard a - jingle of gold coins across the room, and somebody - shouted: “Thieves! Thieves!” The drawer was - jammed shut on my hand.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span>Reaching down with my right hand I got the poke - and tore my left hand out of its trap, leaving a piece - of skin the size of a half dollar behind. There were - three exits and we all got out safely in the scramble, - and “weighed in” at my room.</p> - - <p>Frank was there ahead of us. My grab yielded two - thousand dollars in bills. The chap at the dice game - put his hand on a stack of twenty twenty-dollar gold - pieces, but it was too heavy and he fumbled it, getting - only half. Our assistant at the roulette wheel got a - couple of stacks of silver only.</p> - - <p>The money was split at once, and our friends - departed. Frank took most of our money out and - left it with a saloon man we knew. I stayed in my - room a couple of days waiting for my hand to heal.</p> - - <p>One great failing of the thief is that when he gets - money he immediately makes tracks for some hangout - where he throws a few dollars on the bar just to - “give the house a tumble” and let them guess where he - “scored” and how much he got.</p> - - <p>He looks wise, says nothing, spends a few dollars, - and goes out. Then the guessing begins and it’s - surprising what good guessers some poor thieves are.</p> - - <p>Frank insisted that we go downtown a few nights - later. I took the bandage off my hand and went along. - We dropped into “Billy, the Mug’s,” bought a few - drinks, and departed. Half a block away we were - pounced on by a couple of “dicks.” One of them - jerked my left hand out of my coat pocket where I - had been keeping it to conceal the skinned place. - “That’s enough,” he said, looking at it. They marched - us down to the gambling house and showed us to the - game keepers. They got no satisfaction there, the - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span>gamblers either could not or would not identify us. - We were then taken down to the city “can,” where - they searched us thoroughly, finding nothing but a few - dollars in silver. We were questioned separately and - together, but refused to talk—a guilty man’s only - refuge. The officers ordered the man on the desk - to put us on the “small book,” meaning to hold us as - suspicious characters. “Maybe Corbett can get - something out of you,” one of them said to us as they were - leaving.</p> - - <p>John Corbett was the officer in charge of the city - jail. He was feared and hated from one end of the - country to the other because of his brutality to - prisoners. I doubt if a more brutal, bloodthirsty jailer - ever flourished anywhere. He did not limit his - beatings to underworld people. He beat up rich men, poor - men, beggarmen, and thieves impartially. Anybody - that didn’t crawl for Corbett got a good “tamping.” - He was repeatedly brought before the commission - for his cruelty to unfortunates falling into his hands, - but for years mustered enough influence to hold his - job. Corbett’s treatment of prisoners was the shame - and scandal of Seattle, and he kept it up until the - women of that city got the right to vote. Then their - clubs, in a body, went to the mayor and demanded - Corbett’s removal. He was removed.</p> - - <p>Corbett appeared and took me downstairs where - the cells were, in a moldy, damp, dark half basement. - He was a powerful man, not tall, but thick and broad. - He was black-browed, brutal-faced, heavy-jawed. He - opened a cell door and I started to step in but he - detained me. I sensed something wrong. His - brownish-red eyes gleamed like a fanatic’s. “You’d better - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span>tell me all about that robbery, young man.” His - voice was cold, level, and passionless.</p> - - <p>“I know nothing about it, sir,” I answered very - decently; I was afraid. Like a flash one of his hands - went to my throat. He pinned me to the wall, - choking me, and brought something down on my head with - the other hand that turned everything yellow and - made my knees weaken. Still holding me by the - throat he lifted me clear of the floor and threw me - into the cell like a bundle of rags. There was about - a half inch of water on the cell floor. I lay there - in it, and looked about me by the dim light of a gas - jet out in the corridor. There was nothing in the cell - but a wooden bench.</p> - - <p>After a few minutes I crawled over to it, and, - pulling myself up, stretched out, more dead than alive. - If people can be corrected by cruelty I would have left - that cell a saint.</p> - - <p>St. Louis Frank, in another part of the jail, got a - worse beating than I did.</p> - - <p>Our friends outside were busy. At ten o’clock next - morning James Hamilton Lewis, affectionately called - “Jim Ham,” later United States senator from Illinois, - then an ambitious fighting young lawyer who never - “laid down” on a client, came to see us. At two that - afternoon he had us out on a writ, free.</p> - - <p>From that day on St. Louis Frank smiled no more. - He became snarly, short spoken, and ugly. We got - our money and parted. He went out on the road - “bull simple,” simple on the subject of shooting - policemen. The stories told about him are almost - unbelievable. Years later I saw him in the San Francisco - county jail where he was waiting trial for the murder - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span>of a police officer in Valencia Street. The day he - went to San Quentin where he was hanged, he sang - out to me: “So long, Blacky. If I could have got - Corbett I wouldn’t care.”</p> - - <p>All Corbett’s beating did for me was to make me a - little more careful. I got a boat to San Francisco, - not knowing just what to do, but with a notion of - killing time till old Foot-and-a-half George finished - his time in Utah, and meeting him. I dug up the hotel - keys Sanc and I had planted and experimented a little - in hotel prowling. I hadn’t the sure touch that came - in later years with experience, and didn’t do much - good.</p> - - <p>One night in the Baldwin Hotel Annex I got a roll - of bills that rather surprised me, and I was still more - surprised when I read in the next evening’s paper that - George Dixon, the little colored champion fighter, had - lost his money to a burglar. At the Baldwin bar the - next night somebody asked him what he would have - done had he been awakened by the burglar.</p> - - <p>Dixon, always a good loser, smiled. “I’d ’a’ done - just what you’d ’a’ done. I’d ’a’ gone right back to - sleep till that man went on out.”</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XV</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">During</span> my stay in San Francisco I lived at the - Reno House, a small workingman’s lodgings in - Sacramento Street. It was owned by a man named - Rolkin, a carpenter, who invested his small savings in it - knowing nothing about the hotel business. He had - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span>a “crazy notion” that he could put clean linen on every - bed every day in this cheap place and survive. His - competitors said he was insane. He persisted, - however, and on that “crazy idea” he built a string of fine - hotels that he counts to-day like a barefoot Franciscan - counting his beads.</p> - - <p>I brought a terrible cold out of the Seattle jail that - hung on for months. I got worried about it and went - to a doctor. After looking me over carefully he - pronounced one of my lungs bad and said I was in a fair - way to fall into consumption. He advised me to go - to a different climate, not to worry and get into a panic - about it, and to take cod-liver oil. “Not the - emulsion,” he said, “but the raw oil. It’s nasty stuff to - take, but it will save you. Take it for a year if you - can stomach it that long.”</p> - - <p>I followed his advice. The cold was gone in a week, - and in a month I gained ten pounds. I stuck to the - nauseating raw oil for a year, and to-day I firmly - believe that if I hadn’t I would have long ago - succumbed to the dreaded prison scourge, T.B.</p> - - <p>One night as I was meandering over Kearny Street - toward the Coast somebody fell into step beside me. - I looked around and saw Soldier Johnnie. We were - well met, and I asked about his visit home. “Hell, I - only got as far as ‘Chi.’ I bumped into a tribe of - hungry bums, winter-bound and starving there. They - were living off the free-lunch counters and the weather - was so fierce they couldn’t stay out on the street long - enough to beg a dime for a ten-cent ‘flop’ in the - Knickerbocker Hotel. They were so miserable and forlorn - that I went over to the West Side and rented a - housekeeping joint and gave them an indoor ‘convention.’ - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span>In six weeks my thousand dollars was gone and I put - in the rest of the winter hanging around Hinky Dink’s - and Bathhouse John’s. When the weather got right - I rambled west to Salt Lake. I was going to hold it - down in ‘The Lake’ till George came out, but I met - a beggar that had put in the winter here in the city - and he implored me to come out here and take one look - at the ‘box’ in the Wigwam Theater. I’ve looked it - over and it’s the softest thing I ever saw. It’s older - than I am and I can beat it with a fifty-cent hammer.”</p> - - <p>“Do you need any help?”</p> - - <p>“No. An outside man would only attract the cops. - I’ll plant inside before the place closes and get out - some way after I get the coin.”</p> - - <p>Johnnie didn’t even waste fifty cents for a hammer. - He found one in the stage carpenter’s kit. He got - something over a thousand dollars, all in gold, and I - persuaded him to let me buy tickets to Sacramento, - where I exchanged it for paper money. We got - “under” a night passenger train and held it into - Truckee, where we spent a few days fishing and - drinking mickies of alcohol with some congenial bums we - found by the river. The weather was fine, and we - journeyed through Nevada on slow freight trains, - sitting in the open side door of a clean box car, - with our legs dangling outside, looking for the - scenery.</p> - - <p>If the brakeman came along and wanted fifty cents - apiece from us, we refused and got off at the next stop, - where we drank cool beers in the saloon and waited - for another train. We waited a week at Ogden for - Foot-and-a-half George who showed up on the day. - His head looked a little more pointed, his eyes a little - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span>deader, and his limp a little more pronounced. He - was in good spirits and condition after “stopping his - jolt” in the stir and anxious to start “rooting.”</p> - - <p>Sanc failed to appear, and the three of us jumped - into Pocatello to pay our respects to Salt Chunk Mary. - In a few days her hospitality palled, and George voted - that we move down to the jungle and celebrate his - release from prison.</p> - - <p>Bums, thieves, beggars, and yeggs appeared as if - they had magic carpets. In no time the thing assumed - the proportions of a convention. Everybody had - money. The crowd soon split up into units. Each - unit had its cook and cooking outfit. The “captain” - of each unit collected from the individuals and sent - the younger bums into the town to buy alcohol, beer, - and the “makin’s” of mulligans. There was drinking, - fast and furious, eating, washing, shaving, while some - of the older bums mended their clothes with expert - needle. Cripples discarded their crutches and hopped - about the camp fires grotesquely. “Crawlers” with - cut-off legs swung themselves along on their hands - drunkenly, like huge toads.</p> - - <p>Because of George our unit easily had all the class - of the convention. He sat in state on a coal-oil can - by the fire, bottle in hand, royally receiving the - congratulations of bums from the four points of the - compass.</p> - - <p>Somewhere near by at another fire a bum sang in - a raucous, beery voice, “Oh, Where Is My - Wandering Boy To-night.” “The Face on the Barroom - Floor,” “My Blue Velvet Band,” and “Ostler Joe” - were alcoholically recited by a fat, red-faced bum in - a greasy coat, after which the convention stretched - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span>out on the warm ground and slumbered peacefully in - the balmy summer air.</p> - - <p>The cook of our party was a stranger to me. A - tall, lank man of fifty, with a straggly black beard and - matted black hair hanging to his shoulder. He never - spoke except when the bottle was passed to him. Then - he would hold it aloft and in a dead, empty voice offer - his unfailing toast. “The stool pigeon is the coming - race.”</p> - - <p>“Kid,” said George, when I asked him about the - cook. “He’s crazy as a bed bug and the best ‘mulligan’ - maker on the road. ‘Montana Blacky’ is welcome at - any bum camp anywhere, and he spends his life going - from jungle to jungle.”</p> - - <p>Each day the bums drank more and ate less. The - cooks were drunk and would prepare no food. The - fiery alcohol had done its work. The bums that could - stand up were fighting or snapping and snarling at each - other. Many lay on their backs helpless, glass-eyed - and open-mouthed, while others crawled about on all - fours like big spiders. No more laughter, songs or - recitations. Gloom settled over the camp and Tragedy - waited in the wings for his cue to stalk upon the stage.</p> - - <p>Just when the convention was about to close for - the want of able drinkers, a fresh contingent of bums - arrived from over the Oregon Short Line. They were - brass peddlers and had a big assortment of “solid - gold” wedding rings. A big young fellow they called - “Gold Tooth” seemed to be “captain” of the outfit. - Along toward dark they finished the last of our liquor, - and Gold Tooth and his tribe prepared to go into - the town to make a “plunge.” He detailed a couple - of them to take the main “drag,” another to make the - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span>railroad men’s boarding houses, another to the - saloons.</p> - - <p>“I’ll make the cribs myself. I’m dynamite with - them old brums in the cribs,” he declared, with a - satisfied, confident air.</p> - - <p>The “brass” was portioned out and they started - uptown to “tell the natives how it happened.” There - is no more industrious person than a half-drunk brass - peddler out on the street “making a plunge” for - enough coin to buy himself another micky of alcohol. - The first peddler returned in an hour with his quota - of “Dr. Hall” (alcohol), and the drinking began - afresh. George, Johnnie, and I had enough; we drank - sparingly. One by one they straggled in with their - bottles till all had arrived but Gold Tooth.</p> - - <p>There was much speculation as to what had - happened to him, and his “tribe” finally decided he had - been “yaffled by the town whittler.” In the language - of the bums “yaffled” is arrested, and the “town - whittler” is the constable, so-called because he is usually - found sitting in some comfortable place whittling a - stick.</p> - - <p>When Gold Tooth did show up, it was evident that - he would have been lucky had the town whittler got - him first. Blood was running down his face from - wounds on his head, his shirt was in strands, and he - was raving.</p> - - <p>“Look at me,” he screamed, “this is the rankest - deal I’ve got in my ten years on the road. And where - do you think I got it? In Salt Chunk Mary’s. I go - in her joint and drop a hoop to one of her frowsy little - brums for nine dollars. I’m decent enough to buy her - a bottle of beer when she pays me for my brass. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span>When she goes out for the beer she shows the hoop - to Mary. She comes in and deliberately orders me - to blow back the jane’s nine bucks. I tells her there’s - nothing doin’ and starts for the door. Mary hits - me in the back of the head with a bottle of beer, and - when I go down she puts the boots to me.”</p> - - <p>George sat up and looked at the speaker curiously.</p> - - <p>Still standing by the fire, he continued: “That’s - what I get for bein’ a good bum. I’m goin’ back up - there to-night and burn down her shack; the dirty, big, - red-headed Amazonian battle-ax. I’ll——”</p> - - <p>“Hey, you,” said George from across the fire, - “you’re a liar.” His little dead blue eyes were blazing - like a wounded wild boar’s. “You was a good bum, - but you’re dog meat now.” A gun flashed from - beneath his coat, and he fired into Gold Tooth twice. - Six feet away, I could <em>feel</em> the slugs hit him. His - head fell forward and both hands went to his chest, - where he was hit. He turned round, like a dog getting - ready to lie down and fell on his face. His hat rolled - into the fire. His hands were clawing the red-hot - coals.</p> - - <p>Soldier Johnnie ran around and pulled him away - from the fire by the feet. George stood, with the gun - smoking, glaring at the others of Gold Tooth’s tribe. - They slunk away into the dark, gibbering drunkenly. - Some of the drunken sleepers by the fire were not even - aroused by the shots. Johnnie kicked them awake; - they got up and staggered away. Montana Blacky, - our crazy cook, reeled unsteadily into the circle of - firelight, wabbling like an old crow on a dead limb. - Holding his bottle aloft, he croaked: “Oh, then the - bums began to fight, and there was murder right and - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span>tight.” Waving his arm over the scene as if - conferring his benediction on the fire, the dead man, - George, Johnnie, and myself, he disappeared, - muttering: “The stool pigeon’s the coming race.”</p> - - <p>George handed me his pistol. “Throw this in the - river, Kid.” I broke it open, took out the slugs and - empty shells, threw them into the water at one place, - and the gun at another. We hurried away toward the - railroad yards. On the way up, we decided that - Johnnie should stay in Pocatello and intimidate any - of the weaker bums who might talk, and also try - to shoo them all out of town.</p> - - <p>In the railroad yards, I had my eyes opened to one - of the safest getaways ever discovered—that of - “springing” into a loaded box car. Johnnie got an - iron bar out of a scrap pile. Equipped with this, we - went through the long lines of loaded cars waiting to - be routed out of Pocatello, and in a few minutes - found a car of merchandise billed to Great Falls, - Montana. The process of “springing in” was simple. - With the iron bar Johnnie lifted the bottom of a side - door till it was clear of the hasps that held it in place. - Placing one foot against the car, he pulled the bottom - of the door out, away from its position, making space - enough for us to crawl up into the opening. When - we were safely inside, he sprang the door back into - its place with his bar. Usually one or both end doors - were fastened on the inside, making it easy to get - out.</p> - - <p>In those days this was the bums’ best getaway, and - it never failed unless they went to sleep and snored - so loud that the brakeman heard them when the train - was on a sidetrack. Supplied with food and water, - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span>men have traveled across the continent in safety while - sheriffs and posses beat up the jungles for them in vain.</p> - - <p>Luckily enough, we got into a train that was already - “made up” for departure, and it pulled out in an hour. - Making ourselves comfortable on top of the cases of - merchandise, we took turn about sleeping, and after - a ride of almost twenty-four hours, got into Silver - Bow Junction, where we opened an end door and - crawled out, hungry and thirsty. Then a walk of six - miles, and we were in Butte City, where we got food - and a room.</p> - - <p>George was well known to the police in Butte, but - took no pains to hide himself, feeling sure that the - masonry of the road and jungle would protect him - against the common enemy—the law.</p> - - <p>The next afternoon we were picked up on the street - by plain-clothes men and taken before the chief of - police.</p> - - <p>“What’s wrong now, chief?” queried George.</p> - - <p>“Oh, nothing much, Foot-’n’-a-half, just a telegram - from Pocatello—murder charge,” smiled the chief.</p> - - <p>“What about me?” I asked.</p> - - <p>He looked at a telegram on his desk. “Hold - anybody found with him.”</p> - - <p>They searched us thoroughly and held everything - found on us. We were locked up alone, in separate - cells. “You’ve got plenty of money, boys,” said the - jailer, “you can buy anything you want in the way - of food and tobacco.”</p> - - <p>I sat on the side of my iron cot, wondering who - had kicked over the bean pot. A rat-eyed trusty came - down the corridor and stopped in front of George’s - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span>cell, directly across from mine. “What’s the trouble, - old-timer?”</p> - - <p>George looked at him coldly. “Oh, nothing much. - I just bit a baby’s arm off.”</p> - - <p>The trusty went away. Something told him to ask - no more questions.</p> - - <p>Idaho officers came the next day and we went back - with them to Pocatello, not caring to waste our money - fighting extradition, and feeling confident there was - nothing more than a suspicion of guilt against us. - We were taken straight from the train at Pocatello - to an undertaker’s. Every town official was there. - Inside, in the back room, they led George up to a - table where his victim was laid out under a white - cloth. He knew what was coming, and so did I. The - cloth was jerked off the body and one of the officers - pointed his finger at George.</p> - - <p>“There’s the poor devil you shot, you damned, - murdering ———, and we’ll hang you for it.”</p> - - <p>George coolly and calmly placed his right hand on - the dead man’s brow for an instant. Then, taking it - away, he held his arm out full length with the palm - of his hand up, and said to the officer:</p> - - <p>“If I killed that man, there’s the hand that held the - gun, and there’s the finger that pulled the trigger” - (jerking his index finger back and forth), and, pulling - up his coat sleeve, “there’s my pulse! Do you want - to feel it?”</p> - - <p>They weakened. The old yegg had beaten them - at their own game.</p> - - <p>“Lock them up!” ordered somebody in authority. - The marshal and a crowd of citizens took us to the - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span>calaboose, a small, one-room shack in the middle of - a big lot. They waited around till a pair of - villainous-looking Bannock Indians appeared with rifles. They - were hired to watch us and took turn about, sitting - on a box outside by the door, day and night, silent, - motionless. At evening the marshal brought a basket - of food from a near-by restaurant, and a bundle of - clean, new blankets.</p> - - <p>Pocatello boasted of two lawyers, brothers. One - prosecuted cases in the magistrate’s court, and the - other defended anybody foolish enough to hire him. - Salt Chunk Mary sent the defender over to see us the - next day. He hadn’t influence enough to have us - brought to his office, so he talked to us through the - calaboose-door wicket. We were not going to waste - any money on him. We decided to wait and see if - we needed a lawyer first. George thanked him for - coming, told him we had done nothing, and didn’t - need an attorney.</p> - - <p>Every day for a week we were taken out and - questioned. At the end of that time, having exhausted - their stock of questions and patience, the marshal and - his deputy had us into the justice’s court charged with - vagrancy. In ten minutes we were tried, convicted, - and sentenced to six months each in the county jail - at Blackfoot.</p> - - <p>No matter how small the town is, somebody can be - found to fix things. Mary was on the job and got - the town fixer to “see the judge.” He consented to - suspend the sentences if we would get out of the town - and stay out, warning us that if we ever came back - we would automatically start serving our time.</p> - - <p>We went over to Mary’s to get out of sight till - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span>train-time, and find out what had caused our arrest. - Soldier Johnnie had not appeared at her place. He - folded his tent and stole away with other members - of the convention, and so precarious was the life we - led that it was fifteen years till I saw him again. All - Mary had gathered was that the marshal, noting the - scarcity of bums about town, had gone down to the - jungle, where he found a dead man sprawled beside - a burnt-out fire. Searching the jungle further, he came - upon poor old Montana Blacky, raving mad. He was - taken in and later sent to an asylum. He was the - only bum in Pocatello the day after the convention’s - tragic close. We never knew what caused our arrest, - but surmised that Blacky in his ravings might have - named George as the killer.</p> - - <p>When our train pulled out, the marshal was there - to see that we got aboard and to ascertain where we - were going. We foiled him by neglecting to buy - tickets, and at the same time saved ourselves money by - paying a hungry conductor half fare cash to ride us - into Butte.</p> - - <p>There I began my apprenticeship at the dangerous - and fascinating business of breaking open safes. As - was proper, I did all the fetching and carrying. I - stole the dan, bought the drills, got railroad - time-tables, and guidebooks. I was sent out to make the - preliminary survey of the “spot” George had designs - on. I reported to him whether the spot was “flopped” - in. I looked up the getaway, the all-important thing. - No place is fat enough to tempt unless some feasible - getaway can be figured out.</p> - - <p>I located the blacksmith shop, where heavy tools - could be had if needed, and the livery stable, where - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span>saddle horses could be got if required. I learned what - trains passed, and when. I checked the town whittler’s - comings and goings. I was careful to look over the - place for dogs, the bane of the burglar’s life. If my - report satisfied George, he looked it over once to make - sure. When we went against a spot he did the - “blacksmithing” inside, while I covered the outside.</p> - - <p>We traveled on foot, on horseback, or on trains as - the occasion required. A hike of twenty, thirty, or - even forty miles was not rare. We never got any - such great amounts of money as burglars get to-day. - A thousand dollars was considered a good “touch.” - I believe a thief could get more out of a thousand - dollars thirty years ago than he could out of five - thousand to-day. Living was cheaper, police fewer - and less active, shyster lawyers not so greedy and well - organized, and the fences and fixers not so rapacious. - “Justice” was not so expensive.</p> - - <p>Only the large cities attempted anything in the way - of identification. The Bertillon system was in the - experimental stage and finger printing unknown in - police work. We jumped from one state to another, - kept away from the cities, lived almost entirely on the - road except in the dead of winter, and spent our money - in the jungles with the bums or played it in against faro - bank in the mining towns. When we got a decent - piece of money we quit stealing till it was almost - spent, but while we were spending it we always tried - to locate new spots against the day when we would - be broke. George, although past fifty, never spoke - of quitting. I doubt if the thought ever entered his - mind. He was as much attached to his trade as any - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span>carpenter or bricklayer, and went about it as - methodically as any mechanic.</p> - - <p>His cold-blooded shooting of Gold Tooth caused - many bums to avoid him. After he was dead, I - learned by accident why he did it, but it was too late - then to shake hands with him over it.</p> - - <p>A year after we were banished from Pocatello, a - letter from Mary told us that the Sanctimonious Kid - was arrested in Denver, charged with a tough - burglary, and wanted help. She wanted to help him, but - didn’t know how to go about it. I sneaked into - Pocatello for her generous contribution, and with what we - could spare we went to Denver and got him the best - lawyer there—Tom Patterson, afterward Senator - Patterson from Colorado. We stayed in the state, - turning every dollar we could steal into his lawyer’s - office, but in vain. Sanc got everything Patterson had - in the way of service, and finished with fifteen years - at Canon City.</p> - - <p>A small post office in Utah yielded us a few dollars - and a big bundle of “stickers.” I had no fear of - Pocatello after getting in and out of it once, and we thought - it only right that Mary should have the stamps and - get the profit on them. I got into her place with them, - but she hadn’t enough money and I had to wait till - morning for her to get it from the bank. Instead of - staying quietly in her house, as she advised, I went - out for a look at the town and the whittler got me.</p> - - <p>He threw me in the calaboose, promising to take - me to Blackfoot the next day to start on my six - months. He hired no Indians this time, but just locked - the door and went back uptown, probably to look for - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span>George. I paced up and down the length of the - calaboose, cursing my carelessness. About midnight there - came a rap on the door.</p> - - <p>“Are you in there, Kid?” It was Salt Chunk Mary. - She passed in a small bottle of whisky and some - sandwiches. I implored her to go over by the depot and - try to find some bum that would break the lock and - let me out.</p> - - <p>“No use, Kid,” she said. “The town has been - hostile ever since the convention. A bum can’t light here - any more. I’ll try to get some gambler to do it.”</p> - - <p>She hurried away. In an hour she came back alone, - armed with a crowbar. She put the pointed end of it - into the neck of the lock and with a mighty wrench - twisted it off and threw the door open. I stepped out. - That pale, light-fingered ghost, “The lady that’s - known as Lou,” would have fainted in my arms. Not - Mary. When I reached for her hand, she pushed me - away.</p> - - <p>“Don’t waste time thanking me. Here’s the coin - for your stickers. I borrowed it from the girls. - You’ve got to hurry; there’s a train leaving in ten - minutes.”</p> - - <p>While I was still pouring out my thanks to Mary - she turned away, and I hastened to the railroad yards, - where I hid myself till the train pulled in. I - didn’t go near the depot to buy a ticket, but crawled - under a coach and deposited myself on the rods. - Before daylight I crawled out at Ogden and hiked - straight out of the town. I waited at the first station - out, and in a few hours got a train into Salt Lake, - where George was waiting for me.</p> - - <p>He had seen Judge Powers, who defended me when - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span>I ran away from the verdict of not guilty. The judge - assured him that there was no claim on me and the - worst I need fear was a charge of “vag” from some - sore-head copper. I at once told him of my troubles - at Pocatello and my delivery from the calaboose by - Mary.</p> - - <p>“You don’t have to tell me what a grand character - she is, Kid. I know all about that. She’s righter than - April rain. If you knew half what I know about her - you’d have put a couple of slugs into Gold Tooth - yourself. You probably thought I ‘smoked him off’ - because I was full of ‘Hall’ (alcohol) and wanted to - cut some crazy caper. I croaked him because he was - slandering the best woman that ever stood in two - shoes. I’m not lookin’ for a chance to kill anybody. - I got my belly full of that in the war, an’ that ain’t - all. No matter what they say, dead men do tell tales. - Robbery and burglary are soon forgotten and - outlawed, but when you leave a dead man behind you - they’ve got the balance of your life to catch you and - hang you. A couple of those bums could go into the - Salvation Army ten years from now and get religion - and hang me.</p> - - <p>“I’ve packed a gun for thirty years, and every time - I fired it I was in the wrong except, maybe, when I - let that Gold Tooth have it. That’s because my - business is wrong. But it don’t include murder and I - won’t travel with anybody that deliberately shoots - people.</p> - - <p>“When the town ‘bull’ interferes with you at night - shoot at him, of course, and shoot at him first; but - don’t hit him. He thinks you’re tryin’ to kill him and - that’s enough. He’ll go after reënforcements and you - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span>get away. If he shoots at you that’s just a common - incident; if he hits you it’s a rare accident.</p> - - <p>“You’re only beginning at this racket, Kid,” finished - the veteran yegg. “Take my advice and be careful - with your gun. It’s a good servant, but don’t let it - become your master or it will hang you.”</p> - - <p>We hadn’t been in Salt Lake ten days till one of - the “dicks” that put me on trial in Smiler’s case came - into the “Gold Room,” a gambling house we hung - out in, and took me off to jail. They held me all day - and that night, trying to dig up some charge to put - against me. Judge Powers came the following day, - and after a lot of palaver they charged me with - vagrancy. He got me a bond and I was later - dismissed.</p> - - <p>Harry Hinds, who kept the Gold Room, saw the - police and came back with the good news that we - could stay in Salt Lake as long as we didn’t “bother” - anybody in the city and that they didn’t care what we - did outside the city limits.</p> - - <p>We made our headquarters in the city for more - than a year. We hung out in the Gold Room and our - persistent attempts to beat the faro game kept us - continually jumping into the near-by towns to replenish - our bankroll. Dynamite was easy to get and we - didn’t trouble ourselves to go to Ogden for the parcel - I had left in the safety vault. We became quite - established in Salt Lake and came to know many people. - We lived at a quiet, second-class hotel, and went about - our business in a decent, orderly manner.</p> - - <p>George lost all interest in bums and their gatherings - after the convention at Pocatello, and kept away from - them. They still attracted me, and occasionally I went - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span>down to the jungle on the banks of the river Jordan - that empties into the Great Salt Lake.</p> - - <p>On one of those visits I fell in with a crippled beggar - who had been down on the “poultice route” in - southern Utah. He had formerly been a very capable thief, - but the loss of a leg under a train at once disabled and - reformed him, and he turned to begging, as many do - when they can no longer steal. I had a bottle of “Dr. - Hall” and as we passed it back and forth the beggar - bewailed his misfortune in losing his leg and having - to “dingdong” his way about the country for a few - “lousy dimes.” “There’s a box,” he wailed, “in the - county treasurer’s office in the courthouse at the town - of ——— that I could chop the back out of with an ax, - if I was able-bodied. The town whittler goes to bed - when the general store closes at nine o’clock at night. - There ain’t five hundred people in the town and they’re - all in bed before ten o’clock. I went in to beg the - county treasurer and he gave me four bits. The ‘box’ - was open and I saw a stack of ‘soft stuff’ (paper - money) that would make Rockefeller’s mouth water.”</p> - - <p>He drank himself speechless and went to sleep - mumbling his misfortune.</p> - - <p>I told George about it and we looked it up on the - map and found it was twenty miles off a railroad. “I - don’t like the way it’s situated, Kid,” said George, “but - there’s three or four thousand dollars there now while - they’re collecting taxes, and we’d better look at it.”</p> - - <p>We got a small roll of blankets each, and bought - tickets to a town forty miles distant from the county - seat. George went first, and I followed the next day. - At this base he hired a saddle horse, and departed to - look the spot over. He got back in a few days and - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span>reported that it was even “softer” than the cripple - had pictured it.</p> - - <p>“We’ll hike the forty miles into the town, Kid, by - easy stages, beat off the box, and get a couple of - horses out of the livery stable. By daylight we ought - to be thirty miles away, where we will ditch the horses - and plant in the jungles till night. After that we will - have to hike nights till we get back to ‘The Lake.’”</p> - - <p>The following Sunday night we got into the town, - but found there was a social gathering in the church, - next door to the courthouse. That delayed us till - twelve o’clock. At one o’clock we went into the - stables across the street, and saddled two gentle - horses, leaving them in their stalls. The town was - dark, dead, and we went into the courthouse and to - a rear room where the safe stood.</p> - - <p>The master coolly removed his coat, throwing it - on top of the safe. On the coat he laid a big - “cannon.” I opened the small parcel containing the “dan” - and “stems” (drills). From the blacksmith shop we - had taken a carpenter’s hand brace and a pinch bar. - With this primitive outfit George attacked the box in - a most workmanlike manner. I went outside, but - there was nobody in sight, and the only sound was the - pawing of a horse in the stable across the street. At - two o’clock George came out to look around himself. - He was ready to “shoot her.” The make of the box - required that the door be blown entirely out of place - and the explosion seemed tremendous in the dead, - quiet night with nerves on edge. But the town - slumbered on.</p> - - <p>George waited outside, but there was no alarm, and - he went back, returning in five minutes with a small - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span>but heavy bag of gold pieces that clinked sweetly when - he dropped it into his coat pocket.</p> - - <p>“You carry this head of cabbage, Kid,” passing me - a pack of greenbacks about the size of a brick.</p> - - <p>Dawn was graying the east as we went into the - stable and bridled the horses. George went out first, - pulling his reluctant horse by the bridle rein pulled - over his head. In the door his horse stopped, and - George, standing outside on the inclined platform, - tugged with both hands while I slapped the horse on - his rump. Suddenly George dropped the bridle rein - and his hand went to the waistband of his trousers for - a gun.</p> - - <p>A voice shouted, “Here, you damned horse thief,” - and a shotgun belched murderously, then again. - George got both barrels. He was almost blown off - his feet. He toppled over sidewise and his body rolled - slowly down the incline to the ground.</p> - - <p>The man with the shotgun knew his bloody business. - I plainly heard the sinister click of the breech-lock as - he snapped it shut after reloading. Neither of the - horses was gun-shy; they stood still. The gunshot - echoes died away. A whiff of powder smoke drifted - above and across George’s body. The silence was - awful. I could feel the shooter outside standing at - “ready” with his murderous gun. I was trapped; my - pistol was useless against such odds. Somewhere in - the stable a horse, heaving heavily to his feet, shook - the floor and roused me from my trance of fear and - shock. I remembered having seen a door in the side - of the barn opposite where the man with the gun - was. I ran to it and out into a lot. Across the street - was the courthouse and the general store. There was - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span>a cellar beneath the store. I had looked into it while - George was working on the “box.” Its old-fashioned - inclined doors were open and it was piled full of farm - implements, empty boxes, crates, kegs of nails, etc.</p> - - <p>Half panicky, I dashed across the street and into - the cellar, where I hid amongst the junk at the end - farthest from the door. In a half hour the town was - on fire with excitement. The store was opened and - I heard loud voices and the tramp of many feet above - me. There was a clattering of horses’ hoofs in the - street, and I knew the hue and cry was on. I - burrowed deeper into boxes and bales, prepared for a - long wait.</p> - - <p>When daylight came I saw a pair of stairs leading - up to a trapdoor in the store floor. There was much - coming and going all day, and the steady hum of - voices. I strained my ears, but couldn’t make head - or tail of the talk. I put in a long, hard day, and - when night came and the store was closed I was - famished for food and water. All day I had been - debating in my mind whether I should sneak out at dark - and try to hike away, or hold down the cellar for - another twenty-four hours. I had just decided to go - out and chance it when I heard the cellar doors - banged down from the outside, then the click of a - padlock. I was locked in.</p> - - <p>About midnight I went up the steps and found the - trapdoor unfastened. The store was dark, but I soon - found the cheese and crackers and carefully “weeded” - out a good portion of each. There was a bucket of - water in the back of the store, and I filled an empty - bottle from it, after drinking all I could.</p> - - <p>Letting myself out of a window at the back, I closed - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span>it carefully after me, and hiked out of the town. - Before daylight I carefully planted my “head of - cabbage” in a field and crawled into a clump of bushes - a hundred yards away to sleep and rest up for the next - night.</p> - - <p>Between hunting in fields, gardens, and orchards at - night for food, and walking as fast as I could, it took - me four nights to get to the main line of the railroad - sixty miles away. Counting the money, I found there - was three thousand dollars of “green and greasy,” - worn paper money, in small bills.</p> - - <p>During my long hike I had plenty of time to decide - what to do. I made up my mind not to go near Salt - Lake, where I was known. This money had been the - death of poor old George, and I felt that he would - turn over in his grave if I lost it and my liberty, too. - I took out a hundred dollars and buried the rest with - the utmost care.</p> - - <p>At Provo, Utah, I got some fresh clothes and - settled down to wait till the business cooled off. From - the papers I gathered that George was killed by the - livery-stable owner, who had got up early to go duck - shooting. Going to his stable to get a horse, he found - the back door open and waited to see what was going - on. He thought he had a horse thief, and only fired - when George reached for his gun. Two thousand - dollars in gold was found in George’s coat pocket, and - returned to the county. The hunt was still on for the - burglar with the big end of the money. Nobody - claimed the dead man’s body and he was buried - unnamed and unknown.</p> - - <p>After a miserable month’s wait, I dug up my money - and bought a ticket to Chicago by the way of Denver - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span>and Omaha, going a roundabout way for fear of - meeting my father and having to face his clear, cold eyes. - If it had been honest money I would have gone to him - and offered him any part of it, but I was afraid to - face him with a lie.</p> - - <p>I got into Chicago safely and immediately put my - fortune in a safety box. Then I bought plenty of good - clothes and got myself a nice room near the corner of - Clark and Madison Streets. That seemed to be the - center of the night life, and I instinctively anchored - there. I put in the winter investigating the cheap - dives, hurdy-gurdies, and dance halls. The tough - Tenderloin district attracted me also. The beer bums - and barrel-house five-cent whisky bums came under my - notice. Not very different from the winos of San - Francisco. I visited the five-cent barber shops of lower - Clark Street and the ten-cent “flops” and dime - ham-and-bean joints. Nothing escaped me. I nibbled at - the faro games, but was careful and never got hurt. - Every night I looked into Hinky Dink’s and - Bathhouse John’s bars and heard the same old alarm, “here - comes the wagon.” But those two kings of the First - Ward were “Johnnie on the spot” and never allowed - any of “their people” to languish in the “can” - overnight.</p> - - <p>I discovered the saloon of “Mush Mouth” Johnson, - a negro politician of power, and, fascinated, watched - his patrons, each in turn trying to make the bone dice - roll his way.</p> - - <p>I stumbled upon the hop joint of “California Jack,” - an old Chinaman from Sacramento, who was waxing - fat in his make-believe laundry in South State Street. - Thieves, pickpockets, and pimps and their girls smoked - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span>unmolested day or night. Now and then a tired waiter - or bartender threw himself wearily on a bunk.</p> - - <p>I fell in with a wolfish-eyed girl of the streets, - hungry and shivering in a doorway, so shabby that men - would not throw an appraising glance at her. Like - Julia she was almost “ready for the river.” I bought - her food and clothes and a room. I gave her no - advice and sought no profit from the transaction. - With better clothes and food she plied her trade - confidently and prospered. I saw her often on the streets. - One night she paid me the money I had spent for her.</p> - - <p>Then came a midnight when she knocked at my - door, pale, panting with fear. “You must help me,” - she implored. “I have no friend but you. A man is - dead in my room. If he is found there the - police—you know—they’ll say it’s murder.”</p> - - <p>On the street we got a hack and in ten minutes were - at her place. A shabby parlor fronted on the street; in - back of it was a bedroom. On the bed, fully dressed, - lying crosswise with feet on the floor, was the body - of a man. Well dressed, about fifty, he might have - been a clerk. I went out the back door and to the - alley. There was no one in sight. When I came - back she was shivering in a chair. I put the dead - man’s hat in my pocket and asked her to help me lift - him to my shoulder. She refused to touch “the thing.” - With an effort I got it to my shoulder, the head and - arms hanging down my back. Clasping my arms - around its legs, I staggered out the back way toward - the alley.</p> - - <p>Stumbling up the dark alley over tins, wires, broken - boxes, and other rubbish, I carried my dangerous - burden almost to the cross street and threw it down, - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span>leaving the hat beside it. Annie Ireland, or “Irish - Annie” as she was called by the street girls, was still - huddled in the chair in a corner of the room farthest - from the bed when I returned.</p> - - <p>“Where did you leave it?” she whispered.</p> - - <p>“Up the alley,” I told her shortly. I had no - stomach for this business, and wanted to be away and done - with her. I felt sure she had dealt the man a jolt - of chloral or some other stupefying drug.</p> - - <p>“Look here, Annie,” I warned her, “if you’ve got - any of that guy’s junk around here you’d better ditch - it. They will find him in the morning, and every crib - in the block might be searched.”</p> - - <p>“No, no,” she protested. “I didn’t touch him. I - picked him up on the street. When we came in here - he stretched out across the bed and went to sleep. I - took my hat and coat off and tried to wake him, but - couldn’t. After a while his hands turned cold and - I saw he was dead. Then I went for you.”</p> - - <p>I went out, and she followed me. “Where are you - going now?” I asked.</p> - - <p>“Oh, I don’t know—outside, anywhere. I can’t stay - in there. I’ll go down the line and get drunk, I - guess.”</p> - - <p>I left her at the corner, resolved to see no more of - her. But that wasn’t to be, for there came a day, - years after, when she held up her hand in a court and - perjured me into prison. The next day I moved to - another part of the city and kept away from the blocks - she walked at night. I met her no more, and she soon - fell into the background of my memory. I watched - the papers, but saw nothing except a few lines - reporting the finding of the body of an unidentified man in - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span>an alley. A dead man in an alley didn’t mean much - in Chicago then and his body probably went to the - potter’s field or a medical college.</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVI</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">Summer</span> came and the memorable World’s Fair. - I saw it all, but it put an awful dent in my bankroll and - winter was coming. I heard wonderful tales of New - York City and its opportunities, told by the hop - smokers in California Jack’s, and had almost made - up my mind to go there for the winter when I met - an intelligent young chap who knew all about it. He - advised me to stay away from New York.</p> - - <p>“It’s the toughest town in the United States for - an outsider to get by in,” he said in answer to my - questions. “I’ll tell you what you’re up against. You go - in there single-handed. If you get by the wise coppers - and the hungry fences, you’ve still got the gangs to - beat. Almost all the thieves belong to gangs—the - Irish, the Jews, and the dagoes. They fight each - other, but they make common cause against an - outsider, especially if he’s from the West, and they’ll - know you in a minute with your soft hat and your - Western talk.</p> - - <p>“The gangs are made up of natives and ‘home - guards,’ and some of them are not above snitching on - you if you go in there and get too prosperous. If - you show up in any of the hangouts with money they - will beat you up and take it away from you like any - sucker. Of course if you got into a gang they would - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span>protect you. The gang protects you, and the ward - alderman protects the gang, see? But even then you’d - never have anything, for the money’s split too many - ways.</p> - - <p>“Those hop fiends are raving when they tell you - New York is a simple spot to make a living in. - Everything is simple and easy and rosy to them when they - get a few pills under their belts; but you take my - advice and stay away from it. I can get dollars in - the West where I couldn’t get dimes in New York, - and I wouldn’t go back there on a bet. I’m for - Chicago and points west where you don’t have to wear - a derby hat to get by a policeman,” he finished in - disgust.</p> - - <p>Turning this gloomy picture over in my mind for - a few days, I decided to let New York alone and go - back West. My spare clothes were left with the - landlord, and after a soft, easy year I went back to the - hardships of the road almost gladly. I made long - jumps under fast trains into St. Paul and then on to - the Dakota harvest fields.</p> - - <p>Thousands of harvest hands were leaving with their - season’s earnings and a horde of yeggs, thieves, - gamblers and their women beset them on every side. - Some of the more wary and experienced laborers - bought tickets and got out of the danger zone - unscathed; others dallied with the games of chance - and were shorn, or fell into the yeggs’ clutches and - got “catted up.”</p> - - <p>Harvest workers were called blanket stiffs or gay - cats, and the process of pistoling them away from - their money was known as catting them up. Train - crews flourished by carrying the gay cats over their - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span>divisions in the box cars at a dollar each. Bands of - yeggs worked with the brakemen, who let them into - the cars, where they stuck up the cats, took their - money, and forced them to jump out the side doors - between stations. By the time they walked into a - town and reported their losses, the train was far - ahead, the money split with the train crew, and the - yeggs were holding a convention in some safe jungle.</p> - - <p>After several seasons the cats began buying tickets - out of the harvest fields and the profitable industry - of catting up went by the board.</p> - - <p>I traveled along slowly now, uncertain where to - go or what to do. Meeting many who had seen me - and Foot-and-a-half George on the road, I told them - freely the story of his finish and my getaway. My - prestige grew and I came to be accepted everywhere - as “Stetson,” which, in the language of the road, - means first class.</p> - - <p>Being young I naturally got puffed up and superior. - I looked wise and mysterious, said nothing, and - “connected” only with the higher-ups among the knights - of the road. Stepping out on the street one morning - at Great Falls, Montana, an icy wind out of the north - reminded me that winter had come. I was almost - broke, and fearing a Montana winter without money, - I made a dash for the coast. I traveled north through - Lethbridge, at the Canadian line, and into Calgary, - Alberta; then west over the Canadian Pacific toward - Vancouver, where I hoped to spend the winter. The - snow had piled up in the Selkirk range, delaying trains - for days and making life on the road uncertain and - very unpleasant. My money had dwindled till buying - a ticket was out of the question. Riding the rods of - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span>passenger trains meant freezing, and I was forced to - take the slow and infrequent freights with their open - box cars. At one of the larger towns in British - Columbia I stopped off to rest up, get a decent night’s sleep, - and thaw myself out.</p> - - <p>In the office of the hotel I went to stood a safe that - attracted me. It was of a make that George always - favored, and we had beaten a half dozen of them in - the two years we were together.</p> - - <p>No explosives were needed. It could be got “on - the quiet.” I put down my last dollar for a week’s - board and room, and began planning an assault on the - ancient “box.”</p> - - <p>I was alone, almost broke, and here was - opportunity. Opportunity not only to fortify myself with - money, but to test myself and prove whether my years - with George and the Sanctimonious Kid had fitted me - to make my way alone at the profession I had drifted - into. I went over the situation carefully. A - westbound passenger train passed through the town at - one o’clock A.M. The hotel closed at midnight. An - hour was time enough for the mechanical work on the - box. The time-tables showed that I could be on - the “American side” in twelve hours if I got out on - the night train. Here was a feasible getaway.</p> - - <p>The next thing was to make sure that no one entered - the hotel office between the hours of twelve and one. - Several nights’ watching satisfied me that I would not - be interrupted in that way. The week was almost - gone, so was my money, and I saw that more would - be needed for my board and lodging before the arrival - of my first big night alone. This forced me into a - small room burglary that was almost fatal.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span>Prowling through the one other hotel in the town - I found a room door unlocked and stepped inside. - There were two beds in the room, both occupied. On - a chair by the bed nearest the door was the sleeper’s - trousers, from which I got a purse. Pocketing it, I - moved to a chair by the second bed, where I could - distinguish something dark that appeared to be a - bunch of clothes.</p> - - <p>Right there I learned that a fair-sized, healthy dog - sleeps sound as a human being. Instead of putting - my hand on a pair of pants, it touched something - furry that came to life with a start and a growl, and - fastened a pair of strong jaws on my forearm. Both - sleepers stirred. Before I got to the door, dragging - the snarling, clawing brute that wouldn’t let go his - grip, the man whose purse I had sat up in bed. I was - without a gun, but threatened to blow his head off just - the same. Being a sensible man, he remained quiet.</p> - - <p>I had put out the only light in the hall. Still - burdened with the tenacious, growling dog, I was forced - to feel my way with my feet toward the back - stairway. I couldn’t stop in the hall to choke him loose; - my only hope was to drag him downstairs and deal - with him outside the place.</p> - - <p>At the top of the stairs his struggles and weight - overbalanced me, and we rolled and bumped down - the long, dark stairway to the landing below. On our - way down he weakened, let go his grip on my arm, - scrambled to his feet, and tore out into the alley, - howling piteously. I gathered myself up and ran in - the opposite direction. In my room, I took stock - and found he hadn’t injured me, and that I had enough - money to carry me for another week.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span>I now moved into a small lodging house and paid - for my room each night. As a transient roomer I - could leave at any time without causing comment.</p> - - <p>Curious to learn something about the dog I was - tangled up with, I went into the office and barroom - of the hotel, looking for him. One evening while I - was getting a drink I heard a low, threatening growl - across the room, and a look in the big mirror back - of the bar showed me a good, big, husky shepherd - dog standing under a card table. The hair on his - neck and back bristled as he eyed me suspiciously. I - thought he was going to attack me, and turned around - to face him. When I did this, he backed still farther - beneath the table, but never took his eyes off me. The - room was crowded with loungers and card players, but - none of them appeared to notice his actions. I went - out of the place and stayed out.</p> - - <p>At last the night came that I had decided was to - be my last in the town. I had done everything possible - in the way of precaution and protection. The stormy - night favored me and the box gave up its contents - after a few sturdy blows from a short-handled - sledgehammer. The train arrived on time, and when it - pulled out I got aboard without a ticket. That was - part of my plan. I didn’t want to be seen at the - ticket office, where I knew inquiries would be made - the next day.</p> - - <p>The safe contained nothing of value to me but a - roll of paper money. I had no chance to count or - examine it while waiting for the train, but before the - conductor got to me I fished out a worn twenty-dollar - bill from which I paid my fare, about fifteen dollars, - to Vancouver. I had no intention of going into that - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span>city now, but paid my fare there to mislead any one - making inquiries from the trainmen. I planned to - leave the train at a junction and take another across - the border. Well satisfied with myself, I was - reviewing the night’s work when the train slowed down - between stations, about twenty miles from where I got - aboard.</p> - - <p>After a long wait, the conductor appeared with the - information that the train was blocked by an avalanche - of snow and rock. “Make yourselves comfortable,” - he said, “we won’t get out of here before noon - to-morrow.”</p> - - <p>My carefully laid plans crumbled. I wished myself - back in the town. I thought of the bill I had given - the conductor. I could see the constables with their - heads together in the morning “deducing” and - “inferring” with the result that they would deduce and infer - that their burglar had left on the night train. I could - see them arriving at our stalled train some time in the - forenoon and buttonholing the conductor. I could see - him pointing his finger at me.</p> - - <p>It was suicide to leave the train. Not a hut or - habitation within miles and a terrific storm raging. I - went over every possibility and finished with a - helpless, half-trapped feeling. I went into another coach, - and, finding an empty seat, cut a slit in the cushion - and planted the roll of money, keeping only the change - from the twenty-dollar bill. There was nothing else - I could do to protect myself. I tried to sleep in a - seat, but couldn’t, so I sat around, apprehensive and - nervous, till morning. The storm abated at daylight - and an hour later a work train pulled in behind us, - prepared to dig us out. I got ready for a shock.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span>Sure enough, in a few minutes, two constables from - the town I had left came slowly down the aisle behind - the conductor. When he came to my seat, he stopped - and nodded his head toward me. One officer stood by - me, but said nothing. The other said something aside - to the conductor, who took a roll of bills from his - pocket, peeled off the top one and handed it to him. - He turned the bill over, looked at it carefully, and - then at a piece of paper he had in his hand. After - more talk with the conductor that I couldn’t hear, he - turned and faced me with a gun in his hand.</p> - - <p>“Put the irons on him, Mr. Stevens,” he said to - the officer beside me. “He is our man.”</p> - - <p>I protested against being handcuffed, pushed - “Mr. Stevens” away, and demanded an explanation.</p> - - <p>“You’re arrested in the queen’s name,” said the - officer in charge, “and anything you say will be used - against you. You had better submit quietly. If you - want force you can have it.” He waved his big, - serviceable-looking gun in my direction.</p> - - <p>I submitted. They took me forward to a baggage - car, removed my shoes and nearly all my clothes, and - went through them slowly and thoroughly, but found - nothing incriminating. When the train was dug clear - it pulled out, carrying my roll of bills with it in the - seat cushion, and I congratulated myself on getting - rid of it. I was taken back to the town I left so - suspiciously the night before, and thrown into the jail - wondering what they had on me. They hadn’t asked - me any questions; that looked bad. They seemed too - well satisfied with the thing.</p> - - <p>All my speculations were put to rest the next - morning when I was brought before the magistrate.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span>When I hear the word “technicality” I think of - American jurisprudence. If there is any such term - used in British courts I never heard it. The procedure - in this magistrate’s court was simple, alarmingly - simple. The hotel man proved the burglary. The next - witness, an old prospector who was wintering at the - hotel, testified that he had changed a twenty-dollar - bill at the hotel bar the evening before the burglary; - that it was the only bill of that denomination he had; - that he had carried it with him for six months and - had looked at it so many times he remembered the big - serial numbers on the back of it. He swore further - that he went to the hotel man the next morning and - gave him the numbers. The arresting officers now - told of following the train, getting the conductor’s - statement, and arresting me. They produced the fatal - twenty-dollar bill, the only one in the roll that could - have hurt me, the prospector’s bill. They testified - that they got it from the conductor, who told them - I had paid my fare out of it.</p> - - <p>The prospector now identified his bill. On top of - this it was shown that I had suddenly and suspiciously - left the town, avoiding the ticket office and paying - cash fare with the deadly twenty.</p> - - <p>I hadn’t a leg to stand on in the way of defense, - but managed to get up and object to hearsay evidence - and ask to have the conductor brought into court. - The magistrate and Crown prosecutor laughed. “He’ll - appear when you go on trial at the next term of court,” - said the “cutor.” “Any defense?” asked the - magistrate.</p> - - <p>I saw they had me right. “No, your worship, I’ll - save my defense till I get into a court where I will - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span>not be laughed at.” He laughed again and made the - order to hold me. This court proceeding didn’t take - an hour. I went back to the jail wishing the thing had - happened in the good old U.S.A., where, with a - smart lawyer, I would have got a continuance and sent - somebody to the conductor who might listen to reason - and not be so cocksure about getting the bill from me.</p> - - <p>At the provincial jail I found a drunken Scotchman - in charge. He was assisted by two half-breed Indian - boys serving six months each. One of them cooked - for the jailer and any prisoners that came in; the other - scrubbed the jail. Both of them watched me faithfully - and fed me regularly when the jailer was drunk. I - was locked in a cell and never got out except for a bath - once a week. The Indian boys slept on the floor in - front of my cell by a big stove that was always hot - and kept the jail warm.</p> - - <p>There was not a fixture in the cell but a bucket. I - had plenty of blankets and slept on the floor. My - clothes were taken and I was dressed in a pair of - white duck pants and a hickory shirt. They left me - my shoes and hat. I was never so bare and helpless - before or since. Not a smoke, nor a paper, book, nor - magazine was allowed in the jail. When I asked the - Scotchman for something to read, he got me a Bible, - which I read and re-read with much interest but no - profit. I was pestered daily for weeks by the Crown - prosecutor to return the balance of the money taken - from the hotel safe, eight hundred dollars. He offered - me a short jail sentence if I would give it up, but I - mistrusted him and decided to let some car cleaner - find it rather than admit anything and get myself in - deeper.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span>I gave my case a good thinking over and concluded - there was no way out. Judge Powers, J. Hamilton - Lewis, and Tom Patterson of Colorado, all rolled into - one, couldn’t have acquitted me. All day, every - day, I read my Bible and prayed that the - conductor might fall under his train before the day of my - trial.</p> - - <p>A priest visited the jail one day and gave me a - pamphlet on which he had printed the Chinook - language. In answer to my question he told me it - contained about three hundred words—nouns, verbs, and - adjectives. It was created by the Hudson Bay traders, - years before, and taught to all the Northwest Indians - to simplify trading with the different tribes.</p> - - <p>I soon mastered Chinook, practicing on the two - “breed” boys and any Indians that happened into the - jail. I had given up hope of escape. I was - bare-handed. Even the tin spoon I ate my stew with was - taken away when the meal was finished. The jailer - disliked me from the first. He would come into the - jail corridor roaring drunk at night, rout out the two - “breeds,” and have them unlock my cell and search - “the damned Yank,” while he stood away brandishing - a big gun. They never found anything; there was - nothing there.</p> - - <p>One day he came in with a scared-looking China - boy about twenty years old. “Yank, here’s a cellmate - for you.” He locked the Chinese in, thinking he was - punishing me. The China boy later proved the jailer’s - undoing and my deliverance. He knew some Chinook, - but not one word of English. I learned from the - Indian trusty that he was held for trial, charged with - stealing a considerable sum of money from his - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span>employer, and that his case was about as hopeless as - mine.</p> - - <p>We got along great. I taught him the alphabet and - many words of English while he instructed me in - Chinese. I even humbled myself to ask the jailer for - pencil and paper to teach the Chink writing. He went - down to his office at once and brought me a lead pencil - and pad of paper. I was surprised, and so grateful - I thanked him half a dozen times.</p> - - <p>Inside of a week he got drunk and ordered his - Indians to take them away from me. I asked him no - more for anything, and to this day I believe he gave - them to me anticipating the warm, grateful, pleasant - thrill he would get from depriving me of them.</p> - - <p>The China boy’s company got him a lawyer. When - he came to the jail he called me out and offered to - take my case. I could have got money by writing to - Salt Chunk Mary, but it looked like waste to fight it. - When I asked him straight out if he could do - anything with the conductor, he was shocked, indignant. - “Oh, ah, but, my man! Tamper with the Crown’s - witness, what?” He left as if I had the plague, and - I don’t doubt he reported me to the prosecutor.</p> - - <p>I’ve had a lot of dealings with Chinamen and never - got the worst of it from one. If a Chinese doesn’t - like you he will keep away from you; if he does like - you he will go the route. By signs and a few words - I conveyed to my cellmate that our only hope was - to beat the jail. There was a barred window in our - cell, the outside was not guarded. All we needed was - a hack saw. He was for it. His “cousins” visited - him regularly every week and if they could be made - to understand what we needed they would get it.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span>There was but one hardware store in the town and - to buy the saws there might cause talk. I had him - tell his “cousins” to send to Vancouver to their - company for them. After weeks of anxiety and - uncertainty and much negotiating with their friends at - Vancouver the precious saws were put into my cellmate’s - hands under the drunken jailer’s nose. My plan was - simple. Wait till spring when, if we got out and - failed to get a train we could take a chance on foot - in the country away from the railroad. Night after - night we listened to the trains arriving and departing, - checking the time. A freight train departed - immediately after the one o’clock passenger. If I could - “spring” into a box car, we could make Vancouver in - safety. I secreted the saws and we settled down to - wait for softer weather.</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVII</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">When</span> spring came, my Chinese “tillicum,” which - is Chinook for friend, and I were the only felony - prisoners in the “skookum house,” or jail. The two - half-breeds had finished their time and a couple of - others had been brought in to take their places, four - prisoners in all. The Indians watched us and we - watched them. The tough end of our job was not - to beat the jail or the drunken jailer, but the watchful - trusties, our fellow prisoners.</p> - - <p>I decided to cut the bars in the daytime and have - my cellmate keep a lookout at the door against the - appearance of our jailer or the Indians. The saws - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span>were dug up out of a crack and day after day, slowly, - noiselessly, they bit into the thick bars. At night I - put them away safely in their hiding place, and we - slept as usual. Our jailer drank more and more, and - we were searched oftener, but never once did he or - his Indians look at the bars in our window. We were - so closely watched and the jail was so tight the thought - of our getting anything to “crush out” with never - entered his foggy mind.</p> - - <p>Strangely enough the China boy’s “cousins” never - appeared at the jail after the day they brought him - the saws. Whether they were afraid or thought they - had done enough for him I never knew. To all my - queries about them he “no sabied.” At the start I - had figured on help in the way of money and food - from them. Now I had to dismiss this. I determined - not to go near the Chinese if we got out, but to get - into a train and stay in it till hunger forced me out.</p> - - <p>After weary weeks the work was done; the bars - cut so nearly through I was afraid they would fall - out every time the cell door was slammed shut. I hid - the worn saws, and waited patiently till our jailer got - drunk and gave us our searching. On those nights he - never made a second appearance. Satisfied, he always - went direct to bed and we could hear his alcoholic - snores in another part of the building. The Indian - trusties went to sleep and I rolled our blankets into - dummies that looked passable. At twelve o’clock the - freight train pulled in and went on a side track to get - a fresh engine and allow the passenger train to go by - at one o’clock. I broke the bars out and hid them - under the blankets. The China boy’s knees were - shaking as he crawled out and dropped to the ground. I - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span>followed him, not any too calm and cool myself. He - had no hat, otherwise he was dressed as I was—duck - pants and a thin shirt.</p> - - <p>There was no time to try to steal clothing, food, or - money. As we hurried toward the freight yards - where the train stood I had but one comforting - thought—we wouldn’t be missed till seven in the - morning.</p> - - <p>The Chinaman was helpless. At the side track I - ran frantically about in search of something to spring - a car door with. At last I found a pile of scrap iron - and dug a fishplate out of it. The train was an - all-through freight, billed to Vancouver, the terminus. - I soon discovered a battered box car that suited, and - sprang a side door away from its bearings. Then I - showed the Chinaman the end door and tried to - explain to him, mostly by signs, that he should get - in the side door while I pulled it out, and then unfasten - the end door from the inside to admit me after I put - the side door back in place. He refused to budge. At - last I made him pull the door out while I got into the - car. When I got the end door open I had to get out, - go down, and get him and put him in. Then I sprang - the side door back in position, went to the end door, - crawled in, and fastened it on the inside the way I - found it.</p> - - <p>We didn’t have a pocketknife, not a dime, not a - match; but we were safe, and I wouldn’t have - exchanged the security of that box car for a soft berth - in the sleeper on the departing passenger train. We - were barely settled inside when there was a bumping - and jolting of cars and our train slowly got under - way. We were in a car loaded with barrels of lime. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span>They stood on end and it was painful to stretch out - on them. The ride was a nightmare. Hungry, - thirsty, cold, racked with fear and suspense, we got - into Vancouver after twenty-four hours.</p> - - <p>Clothes were the first problem, any kind of rags to - cover our jail uniforms. I got out of the car with - the half-dead China boy at once, and went directly - back to the caboose on the train we rode. The - conductor and brakeman were already gone. The - caboose was deserted. The boy hid between box cars - while I went to the top of the caboose, through the - cupola, and down inside. In a locker were greasy - coats and pants, and a cap for the Chink. The clothes - were too big for him and the cap too small. He knew - Vancouver and wanted to take me to his “cousins” in - Chinatown, but I was afraid we couldn’t get by a - copper together, so he struck out alone after making - me promise to hunt him up at his company’s - headquarters. I crawled into an empty car to wait for - daylight, when it would be safer to go through the - streets.</p> - - <p>It was Sunday morning. I heard a church bell ring - and knew it was somewhere around six o’clock. When - I looked out of the car I saw that a heavy fog had - settled over the city like a blessed benediction. I - melted into it, making my way out of the freight yards - and into the streets. The fog was so dense that I - couldn’t have found my way if I had known the town. - After walking blocks along a street I saw that the - stores were getting smaller and farther apart. Vacant - lots became more numerous and everything indicated - that I was going in the wrong direction. A few doors - ahead of me an old, rheumatic, mongrel dog appeared - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span>out of a hallway. He was the only living thing in - sight, and when I got abreast of him I stopped and - looked at him idly. He came over to me, gave me a - rather doubtful look, and sat back on his haunches. - After balancing himself carefully, he lifted a stiff hind - leg and made a futile effort to dislodge the hungry - fleas from under his collar. Failing at this, he got up - slowly, gave me another looking-over, and limped back - to his doorway. As he went in he glanced at me out - of the tail of his eye.</p> - - <p>It sounds strange to say that I was suspicious of - a mangy, old cur dog; but it’s true. There was - something so human in his glance that I followed him into - the doorway to see what he was up to.</p> - - <p>In the entrance behind the door, with his head on - the lower step, a man was sprawled. A second look - convinced me that he was a Saturday night drunk who - had got that far and no farther. He was lying on - his back, open-mouthed, and breathing heavily. The - old dog stood beside him watching me.</p> - - <p>I could see he was a workingman and ordinarily - wouldn’t have given him a look, but I was now broke, - hungry, wolfish. The dog growled a feeble protest - as I began exploring his master’s clothes. He had - money in every pocket. I left some silver in his vest - for him to get a drink with when he woke up. The - devoted old mongrel stood in the door as if to bar - me from going out, and eyed me reproachfully when - I gently pushed him aside.</p> - - <p>Out in the street I cleansed my conscience by - repeating the Sanctimonious Kid’s favorite parody: “Oh, - room rent, what crimes are committed in thy name!”</p> - - <p>Turning the nearest corner, a glance over my - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span>shoulder showed me the loyal dog out on the sidewalk, still - accusing me with his tired old eyes. The town was - awake now and I soon found a sailor’s boarding house - where I got a couple of bracing drinks and sat at a long - table where sailors and stevedores were breakfasting - in free-for-all, family style. I didn’t join in the - conversation, didn’t have to. The quantity of food I put - away convinced them I belonged on the water front. - Paying for a room in the place, I got into it and took - stock. There was enough money to get an outfit of - clothes and feed me for a couple of weeks. I made - a bundle of the jail pants and threw it off a wharf - at once. The next day I bought new clothes, shoes, - and hat, got cleaned up, and, dismissing the burglary - charge and broken jail from my mind, proceeded to - look about me.</p> - - <p>I had not been photographed or measured in the - small town I escaped from; it didn’t look reasonable - that the authorities would travel five hundred miles - on the chance of finding me in Vancouver, so I decided - to stay there till I could get hold of something worth - while. Moreover I was curious to know how my - Chinese cellmate had fared, and being young and - somewhat fond of myself, perhaps I wanted to meet his - “cousins” and be admired by them.</p> - - <p>After looking over the town, my experience told - me the police were not to be feared and I went into - Chinatown in search of my friend. Finding the - company store he described, I went in and bought a small - package of ginger candy. About a dozen Chinese - were sitting around, talking or playing dominos, but - the minute I appeared the dominos quit rattling and - the Chinese stopped talking. I looked as mysterious - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span>as I could without making it too strong and surveyed - them one by one. Not one uttered a syllable till I - went out; then they all fell to talking and - gesticulating at once. The following night I went back and - bought more candy. A smart-looking, middle-aged - Chinaman in European clothes was behind the - counter.</p> - - <p>“What you come here for?” he asked in very good - English.</p> - - <p>“I look for Chew Chee, China boy, my friend. We - come Vancouver Sunday morning in box car. - Before—we stop skookum house. Skookum house not very - ‘skookum’ we come Vancouver—very cold, very - hungry. Chew Chee tell me come this house. All - right—I come. Now I go. Good-by!”</p> - - <p>He remained silent, his face expressionless to me. - I knew the Chinese mistrust of white men, and many - of their good reasons for it, and was not offended or - discouraged. He was protecting his countryman; I - admired him for it. At the door I gave him a final - dig. “My friend tell me come your house; I come. - You think me ‘luc zhe.’ You very smart man. You - think me policeman. All right. Good-by!”</p> - - <p>This was too much for the stoical Chinaman. He - followed me out and, catching up, said in a low voice: - “You no ‘luc zhe’; you good man. You come ‘fi fi’ - (quickly).”</p> - - <p>I followed him into the next block, then down a - narrow, dark lane between buildings and up shaky - stairs where he knocked on a door. An old man - admitted us and barred the door. The place was a - big loft. The foggy air was hot, stifling, and laden - with every Chinese smell—opium, tobacco, fish, and - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span>damp clothes drying. Chinamen were cooking, - eating, smoking hop, gambling, or sleeping in curtained - bunks that lined the walls. My conductor was - evidently a considerable person. Silence fell on the room, - and many Chinamen stood still in submissive attitudes.</p> - - <p>He threw a mangy old cat out of a broken chair - near the big stove in the middle of the room and told - me to sit. After a few jerky gutturals to the old man - that let us in, he disappeared in the haze of smoke. - The gambling and chatter started again. Some of - the younger Chinese passed and looked at me - curiously.</p> - - <p>I sat by the stove and watched the scene with - interest. An old Chinaman—he must have been - sixty—shuffled by me hastily with a hop layout and spread - it in a near-by bunk. He was shaking with the “yen - yen,” the hop habit. His withered, clawlike hands - trembled as he feverishly rolled the first “pill,” a large - one. His burning eyes devoured it. Half cooked, he - stuck the pill in its place and turning his pipe to the - lamp greedily sucked the smoke into his lungs. Now, - with a long, grateful exhalation, the smoke is - discharged, the cramped limbs relax and straighten out, - the smoker heaves a sigh of satisfaction, and the - hands, no longer shaking, turn with surer touch to - another “pill.” This is smaller, rolled and shaped - with more care, better cooked, and inhaled with a - slow “long draw.” Each succeeding pill is smaller, - more carefully browned over the lamp, and smoked - with increased pleasure. At last the little horn - container, the “hop toy,” is empty. The last pill is - finished with perfect stroke and flourish, the bamboo pipe - is put aside with caressing touch, the lamp blown out - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span>with gentle breath, and the devotee, sighing softly, - curls himself up for pleasant dreams.</p> - - <p>I was so intent on watching the old man’s magic - transformation from a shattered wreck into a sleeping - cherub that the boss Chinaman’s return escaped me. - He touched my shoulder and I followed him into a - small room in a rear corner of the loft, where I found - Chew Chee. He shook my hand awkwardly. His - English was almost forgotten. All he could say was, - “You good man, you good man.”</p> - - <p>The boss Chinaman was full of business. He drew - out some American gold pieces. “I pay you. Chew - Chee pay me some time.”</p> - - <p>I explained to him that I had not come for money; - that I was there to see Chew Chee and make friends - of his friends, and that if I ever needed money or help - I would ask for it and expect it.</p> - - <p>“Well, then,” he said, returning the gold to his - pocket, “I give you China letter to my company man. - You come my store to-morrow night.”</p> - - <p>He went away and Chew Chee insisted that I go - with him and meet his “cousins.” We walked across - the city to a laundry where I was royally received. - Chew Chee was the only Chinese that had a word of - English, but the party was a success anyway. They - produced their finest liquor, their lichee nuts, their - daintiest cakes, and choicest tea. The hop layout was - spread, and Chew Chee rolled and toasted me a pill - that I smoked just by way of being a sociable, good - fellow. The pill made me drowsy. A bunk was - prepared and I slept out the night peacefully and safely - in the midst of my friends. I bade Chew Chee good-by - in the morning, and never saw him again.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span>That night, having nothing else to do, I went down - to the China store. The boss had my letter ready. - I thanked him for it, and putting it in my pocket gave - it no further thought. And yet that letter snatched - me clear of the law’s clutches on a night when I was - caught in a burglary, overpowered, hog-tied, and - waiting for “the wagon.”</p> - - <p>I marvel to this day I did not quit my stealing right - then and there. I had all the best of it. I had escaped - a sure conviction and sentence. I could have - returned to the “American side” and the Canadian - authorities would have given me good riddance. Yet - the thought of turning to the right, squaring myself, - and starting anew never entered my mind. Probably - youthful egotism, which is nothing but confidence born - of ignorance, whispered to me that I could beat a - game I knew to be wrong and full of dangers. So - without stopping to cast up accounts or take stock, I - blithely looked about me for fresh endeavors. My - money was fast dwindling, more must be had; and - nightly I prowled the town with the single purpose of - locating anything I could do by myself.</p> - - <p>It’s difficult to explain to a layman the pride of a - professional thief. Nevertheless he must have pride - or he would steal his clothes, beat his board bills, and - borrow money with no thought of repaying it. He - doesn’t do those things day after day, but day after - day he takes chances and is proud that he can keep - his end up and pay for the things he needs. All wrong, - of course, but there it is. If I had had brains enough - to grease a griddle, I would have taken a hundred - dollars from the boss Chinaman in the matter of Chew - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span>Chee and gone off somewhere, got a job, and tried to - do the right thing by myself and others. But no, I - was a journeyman; I had served a long and careful - apprenticeship; professional pride—I don’t know what - else to call it—would not permit me to take the - Chinaman’s money for rescuing him from our common - enemy, the law, and I went out to get money in my - own way.</p> - - <p>I was wrong. I knew I was wrong, and yet I - persisted. If that is possible of any explanation it is - this: From the day I left my father my lines had been - cast, or I cast them myself, among crooked people. I - had not spent one hour in the company of an honest - person. I had lived in an atmosphere of larceny, - theft, crime. I thought in terms of theft. Houses - were built to be burglarized, citizens were to be robbed, - police to be avoided and hated, stool pigeons to be - chastised, and thieves to be cultivated and protected. - That was my code; the code of my companions. That - was the atmosphere I breathed. “If you live with - wolves, you will learn to howl.”</p> - - <p>In my rambles about Vancouver, I met an - acquaintance from Salt Lake. He and his wife were exiled - from the Mormon city and could not return in safety - till they got a “bunch of trouble fixed up.” He fell - on my neck, saying: “Just the party I’m looking for. - I’ve got something soft for you; you can’t go wrong.” - He invited me to his quarters, a cottage they had - rented. They were both “smokers,” and over the hop - he explained the “soft” thing.</p> - - <p>His wife, in buying a can of hop, had tendered the - Chinese storekeeper a large bill. When he went into - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span>a rear room for the change, she saw that he had his - money in a box concealed beneath the floor. He made - a purchase later and verified her story.</p> - - <p>“That’s all there is to it,” he said. “All you’ve got - to do is go get it.”</p> - - <p>I investigated and found that his story wasn’t - altogether the rosy dream of a hop fiend. The - storekeeper, an elderly Chinaman, did keep his money in a - box under the floor, but he slept on top of it at night - and in a room adjoining about a dozen Chinese - laundry hands slept in bunks. It didn’t look a bit soft - to me. I convinced myself that the money was there, - and that I could get into the place, but that was all - I could be reasonably sure of.</p> - - <p>My friend’s wife was a resourceful woman. - “Chloroform him, that’s easy. I’ll get you the - chloroform,” she cried.</p> - - <p>I hesitated about that. I was practical, I knew - nothing about chloroforming people. Sanc had never - once mentioned chloroform and what he knew about - burglary was plenty. In searching my mind for - something to guide me I recalled having met a talkative - chap in Chicago at California Jack’s hop joint, who - told me in great detail about his “ether outfit,” how - he injected the fluid through keyholes, putting his - victims out before going into their rooms, how he - chloroformed women sleepers by holding a saturated - handkerchief to their noses, and how he stripped their - fingers of rings while they were stupefied. I - remembered his talk didn’t ring just right and that he - borrowed two dollars from me at the finish and never - paid them. I had long since dismissed him from my - mind as a magazine burglar, a reader and rehasher of - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span>crime stories, embellished and embroidered by daily - devotion to the bamboo pipe.</p> - - <p>Still his talk kept in my mind. There might be - something in it. The old Chinaman had money there; - I needed it. I was ambitious to learn. Chloroform - seemed to be the only way and I decided to try it. - I gave the place a final looking-over. It was a - one-story shack between two larger buildings. A - storeroom in front with its long counter, and shelves on - both sides filled with merchandise, a small room - directly back of it where the storekeeper slept on his - pallet. I made sure of that by rousing him early one - morning to make a purchase. The big rear room - accommodated the Chinese laundry hands.</p> - - <p>My friend’s wife delivered the chloroform and a - clean handkerchief. I rehearsed the whole business in - my mind, and, feeling reasonably safe, put it to the - touch. An open window let me into the bunk room, - where I unfastened the back door, for a getaway.</p> - - <p>On a long table in the center of the room a metal - lamp in a dish burned dimly. The tired laundrymen - snored or breathed heavily. Here a muscular brown - arm hung limply over the side of a bunk below the - curtain, and there a foot protruded. The door to - the old man’s room was open, and I stood there a - long time till I could pick out his gentle, regular - breathing from the chorus of wheezes, grunts, and - snores in the bunk room. I had hoped to find him - lying on his back. I don’t know just why, but that was - the way I had him in my rehearsals. Sure enough he - was in that position, sleeping like a baby.</p> - - <p>Holding the handkerchief at arm’s length, I - saturated it liberally with the chloroform and returned - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span>the bottle to my pocket. Then I knelt beside him and - held the handkerchief above his nostrils. With the - first breath of it he stirred uneasily, and slowly turned - over, facing the wall. Here was something I hadn’t - anticipated. I was sure he hadn’t enough; he breathed - regularly again. I must give him more. Reaching - over him, I held the stuff near his nose as before. One - whiff, and he floundered away from it, turning over, - facing me, but still asleep.</p> - - <p>I grew alarmed. This tossing from side to side - would soon wake him. I thought of giving it up and - going away quietly. My heart was pounding with the - suspense. It seemed to grow and expand till it filled - my chest and almost stopped my breath. I must go - through with it. Carefully this time, I held the - handkerchief near his face with both hands. His body - twitched nervously now. His breathing was labored. - I was sure of him, and held it closer.</p> - - <p>With a scream that woke every Chinaman in the - bunk room, he sat bolt upright, and throwing his arms - out fastened his clawlike fingers in my clothes.</p> - - <p>Believing he was about to be murdered, the old man - fought and screamed in a frenzy of fear. I saw - red-handed capture in front of me, and tried desperately - to throttle him. The noise of our struggle had roused - the sleepers in the back room and I could hear their - startled cries as they dropped out of their bunks. I - had no thought of the money now; it was a question - of getting away. Just when the old man was exhausted - and I was in a fair way to get out of his clutches, - some of the more daring Chinamen from the back - room rushed in. I got a blow on the head that - knocked me half out, and they fell on me like a pack - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span>of wolves, smothering me with kicks, cuffs, digs, and - scratches. The whole thing was over quicker than I - can write it. I was stretched out on my back on the - floor with two Chinamen holding each of my arms - down, two sitting on each leg, and another with both - hands in my hair. They all chattered at once. Then - one came with a lamp, and I was inspected curiously, - like some strange, fearsome monster that had been - trapped.</p> - - <p>The old man, now recovered from the battle, gave - a sharp order. A short, muscular, knotty-legged - China boy went to the back room and returned with - a rope. I was carefully raised to a sitting position - and my arms held to my sides while the boy threw - a couple of half hitches around my body, pinioning - me safely. The rope was then run to my ankles, where - he deftly tied some more strange and wonderful - Chinese knots, and I was secured; scratched, bruised, - bleeding, and asking myself if they were going to send - for the police or execute me on the spot.</p> - - <p>Another order from the boss and they lifted me - bodily and sat me on a box in the corner of the little - room. They stood by, eyeing me in silence now. The - old man sat on his pallet. There was an odor of - chloroform in the room, but he did not appear to be - any the worse for what he had inhaled. Our struggle - had probably worn it off. He picked the handkerchief - from the floor where it had fallen and sniffed it.</p> - - <p>Holding it out toward me, he asked in fair English: - “What for, him?”</p> - - <p>Something told me I had a chance yet. I decided - to tell the old man the truth. “Him medicine,” I - answered.</p> - - <p><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span>“What for medicine?”</p> - - <p>“Make you sleep.”</p> - - <p>“What for sleep?”</p> - - <p>“I think maybe take your money.”</p> - - <p>“How you know me money?”</p> - - <p>“I come your store; I look see.”</p> - - <p>He got up, rolled his blankets away, and, raising - up the small trapdoor in the floor, opened his box and - made sure that it had not been disturbed. They all - began talking again. I heard the fatal words “luc - zhe,” “luc zhe,” which means policeman.</p> - - <p>In desperation I cried, “No, no, no luc zhe. Him - no good. I got plenty good China friends. Me good - friend Chew Chee, China boy. Before—Chew Chee - stop ‘skookum house’ I bring him Vancouver. Me - good man.” I remembered my Chinese letter and - cried out desperately: “You look my pocket; you see - China letter; him good letter. You look my pocket.”</p> - - <p>The name of Chew Chee was like magic on them. - They became silent and listened closely to my talk. - I was tied up so that I couldn’t reach the vest pocket - the letter was in, but I managed to touch it with a - finger. “You look my pocket,” I cried frantically to - the old man.</p> - - <p>He came over to where I sat on the box and gingerly - put his fingers into the pocket, bringing out the letter. - By the lamplight he studied it long and carefully. - Others then read it, and the powwowing started again, - while I sat listening for the fatal “luc zhe,” and - picturing myself back in the jail I had so lately escaped - from. The boss now got a box and sat opposite me - with the letter in his hand and a thoughtful, puzzled - look on his leathery, wrinkled old face. The other - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span>Chinamen stood behind him, silent again. I saw I - was going to be tried or examined, and hoping for an - out, I began to figure some kind of a defense.</p> - - <p>His accusing words bit into me like an acid. They - were laden with scorn. I turned hot with shame and - confusion. Tapping the letter with a long, bony - finger, he said: “Him letter talk you good man. What - for, you good man?”</p> - - <p>These were short, plain words and called for a plain - answer. No use trying to deceive this old man after - trying to rob him. No use putting up a crying talk - for mercy. I could see he scorned me as a robber, a - thief in the night, and made up my mind not to bring - more contempt upon myself by pleading weakly and - in fear. I answered him as I imagined he would have - answered me if by any chance our positions had been - reversed.</p> - - <p>“Maybe me good man,” I said. “Maybe bad man, - I no know. Long time policeman make me plenty - trouble. Long time I stop jail house. Then I come - Vancouver. No more money, no more eat. I look - see your money, I come your house steal your money. - No can do; you catch me. You send me jail house, - long time me no come home. More better you kill - me now. Policeman talk me bad man; plenty - Chinaman talk me good man. Maybe good man, maybe bad - man; I no know.”</p> - - <p>I spoke firmly, looking him in the eyes frankly, and - finished my argument for the defense with as much - force and feeling as any barrister ever put into a plea - for a client’s life. His face was blank as a board. - His little brownish-black eyes were fastened on mine, - but I saw no hope in them. I couldn’t even tell - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span>whether he had understood what I said. After - studying me for a long time he turned and said something - to one of his boys. The boy went into the bunk room - and came back with a heavy meat cleaver that the - Chinese use to chop pork and fowl. Another order - and I was lifted, box and all, out of the corner - and placed in the middle of the room. The China - boy with the cleaver stepped behind me.</p> - - <p>Something in the pit of my stomach seemed to - collapse. I tried to say something to the old boss, but - the words wouldn’t come; they just rattled around in - my throat. The old man bored into me with his eyes - like a blacksnake “charming” a bird. Suddenly he - uttered a short, sharp exclamation that sounded like - “Chut.” I snatched my eyes away from his and closed - them, prepared for the fatal blow that my guilty mind - told me was about to fall on my head from behind. - The blow did not fall, but I was almost dead anyway - and swayed on my box till the China boys had to - support me. I felt a fumbling at my ankles and opened - my eyes to find the knotty-legged boy kneeling at my - feet, untying his knots. When the rope was taken off - me, I turned my head and saw the boy standing behind - me, holding his cleaver at “ready,” prepared to strike - me down only if I started anything rough. One of - them handed me my hat. I put it on, and stood up - slowly and with an effort. The old man waved his - arm toward the back room.</p> - - <p>“You go ou’,” he ordered sternly.</p> - - <p>“My letter?” I asked meekly and respectfully.</p> - - <p>“No more letter,” he said, crumpling it in his hand.</p> - - <p>The Chinese boys stood aside as I started into the - bunk room to go out the back door. I was shamed, - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span>humiliated, covered with confusion. Turning back, I - took off my hat, and facing the old man held up my - right hand.</p> - - <p>“If I ever rob another Chink I hope to rot in the - gutter.” I was so intent on expressing my gratitude - that I forgot my Chinese lingo.</p> - - <p>He understood no word of it, I’m sure, but pointed - again to the back. “You go ou’.”</p> - - <p>I went out, humble and crestfallen. In the alley I - threw the bottle of chloroform against a building, and - its crash somewhat relieved my feelings. That was - my first and last experience with chloroform as an aid - to burglary. As an agent for stupefying a sleeping - person without waking him, I maintain, in spite of - the opinions of fiction writers and romancing thieves, - “it can’t be done.” Making my way to the cottage - of my Salt Lake friends who had promoted me, I - reported my disastrous and humiliating failure. Had - they been inclined to entertain any doubts about my - story, my appearance would have set them at rest. I - was scratched, clawed, bruised, and had a big lump - on my head.</p> - - <p>They were very sympathetic. I was invited to “stick - around a few days” till they could look up something - else for me. I excused myself as tactfully as possible, - resolving to locate my own work from there on. I - went to my room and to bed, and stayed there several - days because of the terrible mauling the Chinamen - had given me. Yet, with all this, I couldn’t but respect - them for letting me go free, heaping coals of fire on - my guilty head. I remembered Smiler and our resolve - never to pester another Mormon when we had been - captured in the Temple yard and released. I vowed - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span>never to molest another Chinaman, and never since - have I imposed upon one except on one occasion, and - that was under great necessity.</p> - - <p>Years after, I got out of a train at Cheyenne, racked - with the opium habit, after an all-day ride to escape - the Denver police. Making a hasty survey of the - gambling houses and joints I failed to find anybody - I knew who could direct me to a place to “smoke.” - It was almost midnight, cold and storming, and I set - out to find a laundry. There was one near by, the - laundrymen were resting after the day’s toil, and - through the glass door I saw one lying in his bunk, - smoking his day’s ration of hop. The door was - locked, and they refused to open up for me.</p> - - <p>No hop fiend’s wits ever fail to work when the “yen - yen” arrives. In desperation I hastened to one of the - gambling houses, and going into a rear room took off - my vest and wrapped it in a newspaper. Hurrying - out, I got a messenger and gave him fifty cents to - take the bundle to the Chinese laundry. I was at his - heels. The Chinamen seeing what they thought was - a parcel of laundry opened the door and I shouldered - myself in behind the boy. Once inside, I took my vest - away from him and going directly to the bunk where - the smoker lay threw down some silver, explaining - what I wanted. The smoker turned out to be the - boss laundryman. The sight of my money mollified - him somewhat, and after much protesting and - objecting he let me lie down on his bunk and smoke my - fill. In an hour we were friends. He explained that - he refused to open the door because he thought I - was a “ketchum money man”—a robber.</p> - - <p>In the days of my sad experience at the Chinese - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span>store, Vancouver was a much smaller town than it is - now. There were few opportunities worth while, - and I decided to leave. Moreover every Chinese - store, laundry, and business house reminded me of - that disastrous night. I was afraid of bumping into - Chew Chee or the boss Chinaman that had given me - the letter. I was sure they had heard about it, and - didn’t want to face them. I was nearly broke again, - and had to bestir myself.</p> - - <p>The American side seemed the only place to go, - and not having enough money to buy a ticket, I went - down to the railroad yards to get a train. The blind - baggage, or “stormy end” as the bums call it, was so - crowded when the train pulled out that I saw they - would all be thrown off at the first stop. I didn’t - want to get underneath on the rods and ruin my - clothes for a short jump of fifty miles to the junction, - so I got on top of a coach. Something must have been - wrong with the engine, for there was one continual - shower of red-hot cinders falling on me that burned - holes in my clothes, ruining them and blistering my - skin.</p> - - <p>At the first stop I got down, intending to go in a - coach and steal a hat check, or crawl under a seat - out of sight. Looking about I saw that the last - coach was in darkness, and thinking it was a dead, - empty car, I waited till it came along and boarded - the front end, hoping to find the door unlocked. The - door opened to my touch, but when I went inside I - found myself in a luxuriously furnished private car - instead of a dead coach.</p> - - <p>There are only three degrees of tough luck—bad, - worse, and worst. When you reach the worst you have - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span>the satisfaction of knowing that if your luck changes - it has to change for the better. I considered my - Waterloo at the Chinese store the direst degree of - bad luck. Not only had I lost a big bunch of money; - I was hurt somewhere else.</p> - - <p>At that time I thought it was my professional pride - that suffered because of failure. Now I know I was - hurt because the old Chinaman had shown himself - so superior to me. If he had sent me to jail I would - have done my time and forgotten him, but to this - day thinking about him and writing about him make - me feel uneasy. I wonder what I would have done - had he made me promise to quit stealing?</p> - - <p>But I was in this private car, feeling that my luck - was due for a change, and with a chance to heal my - wounded pride. The air inside the car was warm, - live, vibrating. I sensed an occupant. Making my - way along the aisle toward a stateroom at the far - end, I looked about closely for an attendant but there - was none in sight. The stateroom door was open, - with a chair against it, probably for better ventilation. - A heavily shaded lamp was burning, and by its soft - light I saw the form of a big man rolled in the - blankets on a broad berth. His back was toward - the door, and nothing but a shock of coarse gray - hair showed above the covers. A glance told me I - was in the presence of power, wealth, affluence. I - hadn’t enough money to pay for that man’s breakfast.</p> - - <p>On a small table at the head of the sleeper’s berth - there was a large silver pitcher, a glass, two books, a - fat leather pocketbook, a thick bill fold, a pocket - purse, and a heavy gold watch, with a small, black - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span>ribbon guard. I took all the articles except the - pitcher, glass, and books, and started for the door I - entered, praying that the attendant wouldn’t appear. - I saw nothing of him, and concluded he was - somewhere forward, gossiping or shooting dice with the - porters.</p> - - <p>It was but a minute’s work to get back upon the - top of a coach, where I lay and let the cinders do - their worst. The next stop was a junction, where I - intended to get off and cross the line into Washington. - The only train in sight was a westbound passenger - waiting on a sidetrack. I was afraid to hang around, - and when it pulled out I went underneath on the rods - and got back into Vancouver after an absence of five - hours. I planted the watch in the railroad yards, - and never saw it again.</p> - - <p>On my way uptown to get a room, I emptied the - bill fold and purse, throwing them away. In the room - I looked over the money, and found I had enough - to keep me six months, if I kept away from the faro - tables.</p> - - <p>The fat pocketbook held no money, but was - bulging with valuable personal papers. Looking through - them I saw that their owner was one of the higher - officials of the Canadian Pacific Railway. I realized - there would be a terrific roar in the morning, and was - on the point of burning the papers and destroying - the pocketbook when the thought came to me that I - could gain nothing by that, while I would be causing - the owner an immense loss and no end of - inconvenience. I secreted the pocketbook in the rear of the - hotel, and went to bed trying to think up some safe - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span>way of returning it to the owner. No use in inflicting - a profitless injury on him; and its return might take - the sharp edge off his resentment.</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVIII</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">Discarding</span> my cinder-burnt clothes for a new - outfit the next day, I bought a ticket for Victoria, B.C. - On my way to the boat that evening I dropped the - fat pocketbook into a mail box, where I knew it - would be found, then examined, and returned to the - loser.</p> - - <p>When I first began stealing I had but a dim - realization of its wrong. I accepted it as the thing to do - because it was done by the people I was with; besides, - it was adventurous and thrilling. Later it became an - everyday, cold-blooded business, and while I went about - it methodically, accepting the dangers and privations - it entailed, I was fully aware of the gravity of my - offenses. Every time I stole a dollar I knew I was - breaking a law and working a hardship on the loser. - Yet for years I kept on doing it. I wonder how many - of us quit wronging others for the best reason of - all—because it is wrong, and we know it. Any thief that - can’t or doesn’t put himself in his victim’s place, in the - place of the copper that pinches him, or in the place - of the judge who sentences him, is not a complete - thief. His narrow-mindedness will prevent him from - doing his best work and also shut him off from - opportunities to help and protect himself when he is laid - by the heels.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span>Nobody wants to live and die a criminal. They all - hope to quit some day, usually when it’s almost too - late. I will say right here to any thief who thinks of - quitting that if he can put himself in the other fellow’s - place he has something substantial to start on; and - if he can’t do it, he’ll never get anywhere.</p> - - <p>I always figured that when I had a man’s money - or valuables he had suffered enough. What sense in - destroying his personal papers, or keeping heirlooms - of no value except to him, or subjecting him to any - loss that would be profitless to me? In the case of - this sleeper in his private car, I saw the money and - watch meant little to him. The papers meant much. - On top of that, his peace of mind was disturbed, and - his sense of safety and security shattered. He would - probably lock his doors and sleep in a stuffy room the - balance of his life, another great hardship. I had - his valuables and intended to keep them. I could not - restore his peace of mind or his sense of safety and - security. I could restore his papers, and, at some small - risk, did. Had I been chased or suspected I would - have thrown them away, or in the fire without a - thought. I took his property coolly, impersonally, as - a picker removes the feathers from a fat goose. I - returned his papers as the last touch to a - workman-like job, as the cabinetmaker softly gives the last nail - its last light tap.</p> - - <p>To any thief who reads this and criticizes me as - being over-thoughtful of the “sucker,” I reply that he - is probably one of those guys that beats his victim - up after robbing him; who strikes down women and - children if they get in his way; who destroys paintings, - vases, tapestries, and clothing wantonly, and winds up - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span>by letting some housewife chase him under a bed, where - she holds him with her broomstick till the coppers - arrive. He is not a thief, but a “mental case,” and - belongs in a psychopathic ward.</p> - - <p>At Victoria I put in a few very pleasant months. - I joined the colony of Chinese and opium smugglers - who ran their freight across the line in fast, small - boats at night into Port Townsend, Anacortes, or - Seattle, Washington. The manufacture of smoking - opium was then a legalized industry in Canada, and - the smugglers were welcomed and harbored because - they brought much American gold to the Canadian - side. Being in the company of these characters I - was accepted by the police as one of them, and went - my way unmolested.</p> - - <p>One fatal evening, as I stood watching a faro - game making mental bets and winning every one, the - devilish hunch came to me that I was lucky and ought - to make a play. My resistance reached the vanishing - point. I made a bet, lost it, got stuck, and feverishly - played in my last dollar.</p> - - <p>This gambling habit is the curse of a thief’s life. - He loses his last dime and is forced to go out in haste - for more money. Like a mechanic broke and out of - a job, he takes the first one in sight. He has no time - to pick and choose, or calculate carefully what he is - about; he must eat, and the minute he goes broke he - gets hungry. Gambling keeps him broke, forces him - to steal small money on short notice and take - prohibitive and unnatural chances.</p> - - <p>I could have borrowed money enough to expense - myself to Vancouver where I had the valuable watch - planted, but there had been such a cry in the papers - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span>about the car burglary, the loser was so powerful and - influential, and the danger of trying to sell it so great, - that I decided to leave it there till later, and take it to - the American side.</p> - - <p>During my stay in Victoria I had strolled through - the residence district and noted several homes that - looked prosperous and easy of approach. House - burglary was almost unknown there then; there was - almost no police protection, none was needed. - Householders left windows open and doors unlocked.</p> - - <p>One o’clock found me in one of the most - pretentious places on my list, but instead of picking up trifles - right and left as I expected, I found but one room - occupied. Later I learned the family, with the - exception of the man of the house, was away for the - summer. He was a good sleeper. I took nothing but - money, and not much of that—less than fifty dollars - in silver and bills—leaving his watch and some small - articles of jewelry as not worth the chances I must - take in trying to dispose of them in a strange town.</p> - - <p>I went straight downtown to the only all-night bar - and lunch counter to eat before going to bed. Before - I had my meal finished two officers and two civilians - came in and spoke to the sleepy bartender. He nodded - toward me and they all came over to where I sat - eating. One of the civilians looked at me closely and - said to the other: “Looks very much like the man; - same clothes, same hat, same build, same height.”</p> - - <p>“What do you mean?” I asked.</p> - - <p>“This,” spoke up the other. “If I am wrong you - have an apology in advance; if I am right you are in - for it. I was robbed not an hour ago in my bedroom - in my house. This man, my servant, had occasion to - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span>get out of bed and, while standing at a window in - his room, saw the prowler leaving stealthily by the - rear way. Suspicious, he alarmed me, and I - discovered my loss. I brought these officers here on a bare - chance that the burglar might be here. You are the - only one who has entered here, except us, in the last - hour. I do not accuse you. I ask you if you will - permit the officers to search you. If you are an honest - man, you cannot take offense.”</p> - - <p>He was the man I had robbed; he was an Attorney; - he was a smart man. I was in a bad hole. If I objected - to search it would look bad, and they would do it - anyway. “Certainly. Go ahead and search me,” I - said, making the best of a bad position. When the - officers had finished searching me, they counted the - money.</p> - - <p>“Lock him up,” ordered the lawyer. “He has the - exact amount of money I lost. The paper - corresponds, and so does the silver.”</p> - - <p>They handcuffed me. “You’re arrested in the name - of the Crown, and anything you say will be used against - you.”</p> - - <p>I was taken to the city prison where I gave the - booking officer a very brief and misleading - biographical sketch. The jail I had fled from with the China - boy loomed before me and my only thought was to - cover up. I put in the balance of the night going - over my case. It looked hopeless. The next - morning my cell was not unlocked when the other prisoners - were let out to wash. Later a jailer opened it, and a - Siwash Indian boy handed me a bucket of water and - a towel.</p> - - <p>When I reached for them the boy looked at me - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span>and I turned cold. He was one of the watchful trusty - prisoners at the jail I had escaped from. He knew me. - This was the first of a long and bitter series of - experiences with stool pigeons, and in all my life I never - witnessed a more gratuitous, barefaced, conscienceless - exhibition of snitching.</p> - - <p>Without waiting to walk out of my sight he grabbed - the jailer by the arm and began pattering away in - Chinook, pointing at me. He didn’t “spill the beans.” - He just kicked the pot over and put out the fire.</p> - - <p>“To understand is to forgive,” it is said. I have - long since forgiven the numberless, noisy stool pigeons - that beset my crooked path because I don’t want any - poison in my mind, but as yet I am unable to - understand them.</p> - - <p>Immediately the jailer came back with another - officer and they put a very hefty pair of leg irons on - me. At ten o’clock I was taken into the magistrate’s - court. The attachés and loungers crowded close and - stared at me curiously. The magistrate briefly and - coldly remanded my case for three days. A - photographer waiting at the jail took a number of pictures - of me and I was locked up again. The jailer, a - sad-eyed, solemn-faced Scotchman, gazed at me a long time - through the barred door and smacked his lips as if - enjoying the flavor of some delicious morsel or rare - wine.</p> - - <p>In a voice that seemed to come out of a sepulcher - he said: “You escaped from the provincial jail in - the town of ———.”</p> - - <p>I already knew I was lost, but his solemn face and - melancholy voice conveyed to me, as he probably - intended, the full force and effect of my predicament. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span>He made me feel like one buried alive; his measured - words sounded to me like cold clods dropping on - my coffin. I wasn’t taken out of my cell and “sweated” - or third-degreed, or beaten up. That looked bad for - me. The more a prisoner is questioned the less they - know; the less he is questioned the more they know. - If he is not questioned at all they know it all, or - enough. My captors asked me no questions; they - knew enough.</p> - - <p>At the expiration of the three days I was remanded - again. Then came another remand, and before it - expired the Scotch jailer I escaped from appeared to - take me back for trial where there was a cinch case - against me and the charge of jail breaking to boot. - The lawyer whose house I entered and who so neatly - trapped me came to the jail before I was taken away. - He was a fine fellow, an Englishman, and to use an - English expression in describing him, I’ll say he was - “a bit of all right.” He brought me a book from - his library, Charles Reade’s “It’s Never Too Late to - Mend.” He waived claim to the money found on me - when I was arrested; told the jailer to see that I - got it and wished me luck with my case. He neither - lectured me nor asked any embarrassing questions. - Shaking my hand heartily when he was leaving he said: - “Do read that book, old man. And, I say, I’m not - intimating that you’re an authority on burglary, but - I thought you might tell me how I could prevent it in - future.” I told him to buy himself a dollar-and-a-half - dog, and let him sleep in the house.</p> - - <p>He shook my hand again and thanked me. He was - so downright decent and charming that an outsider, - observing our interview, would have thought he had - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span>come to ask a favor of me, and was departing under - a heavy obligation. I was ashamed of going into his - house and would have taken a pledge not to rob any - more Englishmen but it didn’t seem necessary. From - what I could see, there was a judge waiting in the - jurisdiction I escaped who would attend to that.</p> - - <p>The Scotchman loaded me with irons, put me on a - boat to Vancouver, then on a train, and finally landed - me back safely in his jail. He took the Englishman’s - book from me on the train and never gave it back. - I had no chance to read the story till I got out of - his clutches. Later I got it, read it, and was - fascinated and read every other book by the author that I - could lay hands on.</p> - - <p>During my absence a new and securer cell had been - built in the jail because of our escape. It adjoined - the jailer’s office, and its barred door was directly in - front of his desk, not six feet away. He moved a camp - cot into his office and slept where he could watch me. - Day after day and night after night he drank his - whisky, smoked his pipe, and rustled his paper under - my nose.</p> - - <p>Chew Chee, the Chinese boy, had stolen two - thousand dollars cash from his employer. He told - me he gambled it away before he got arrested. At - any rate, the money was never recovered. My jailer - spread the report around that I took the Chinese boy - with me so I could get the two thousand, after which - I had murdered him and secreted his body. Whether - he believed it or only pretended to, I never knew. - He never questioned me about Chew Chee, and now - when he got drunk instead of calling me just plain - “damned Yank,” he chucked in another adjective, - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span>“murderous.” To get even with him I began - sleeping in the daytime and walking up and down the cell - all night, clanking the leg irons to keep him awake. - He retaliated by prodding me with a long stick every - time he caught me sleeping in the daytime, and I gave - it up.</p> - - <p>He took my Bible away and when the Salvation - Army came on Sunday I reported it to them. - Somebody regulated him, and he grudgingly returned it.</p> - - <p>I had some thought of taking a jury trial. One - never can tell what a small-town jury will do. - Sometimes they carry their neighborhood feuds into the - jury room and the defendant gets a disagreement. - But after my jailer spread his story about my - murdering the China boy, I dismissed the jury from my mind - and decided to go before the court under the Speedy - Trials Act. A defendant electing for a speedy trial - dispenses with a jury and saves time and money for - the community. A speedy trial is almost equivalent - to a plea of guilty, but when the defendant is found - guilty the court, in passing sentence, considers the fact - that there has been no expensive jury trial and is more - lenient.</p> - - <p>The Crown counsel called at the jail to ask what I - wanted in the way of a trial. I told him, and he had - the witnesses subpœnaed for a certain day. I could - have got a young lawyer of the town with the money - I brought from Victoria, but it looked to me like a - willful waste, and I held it.</p> - - <p>In due time the judge arrived at the town. My irons - were struck off, and I went into court. I got a brief, - dignified, orderly trial. The train conductor appeared - and identified me and the fatal twenty-dollar bill I - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span>gave him. All the other witnesses testified, word for - word, as they did at my examination. I removed any - doubts there might have been as to my guilt by - declining to go on the witness stand. This trial consumed - almost an hour.</p> - - <p>Then I was tried for escaping from Her Majesty’s - jail. That consumed fifteen minutes.</p> - - <p>Having no lawyer, the judge asked me if I wanted - to go over the points in the case. I thanked him and - said I could not presume to instruct His Lordship on - law points. He gave his verdict then, “Guilty, both - charges.”</p> - - <p>“Anything to say before sentence?” he asked.</p> - - <p>Thinking he might be feeling better after lunch - I asked till one o’clock to prepare a very short - statement. He adjourned court. At one o’clock I stood - up and said: “Your Lordship, my trial was fair; your - verdict just.”</p> - - <p>He looked at me a long time. “Two years in the - provincial penitentiary for burglary; six months for - jail breaking. Sentences concurrent—and thirty - lashes.”</p> - - <p>The prison sentence was no surprise to me. I - expected a heavier one. I had long before admitted - to myself its possibility, even its probability. But I - had accepted that as a business man accepts a chance - of bankruptcy, or as a laborer foresees an injury. The - court’s order that I be lashed was a surprise and - caused me no small concern. I couldn’t get it off my - mind. I wondered if I could stand it; day and night - I could feel the lash on my bare back. After turning - it over in my mind I decided to make the best of it, - and found some consolation in the thought that if - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span>the judge hadn’t ordered the flogging he would have - sentenced me to five or ten years.</p> - - <p>I dismissed all thought of escaping again from the - jail. Even if I had my saws that were planted in the - cell I got out of, I couldn’t have used them, for my - jailer was determined to land me in the penitentiary - and watched me closer than ever. I was wretched - and almost lost hope. I envied poor dead Smiler and - Foot-and-a-half George. I wished myself back with - the larcenous-eyed Tex and his crew of cheap gamblers. - My mind ran back to Madam Singleton and Julia and - the overworked widow at my boarding house. I - thought of the Sanctimonious Kid doing his fifteen - years in a tough “stir” and wondered what had become - of Soldier Johnnie, and how Salt Chunk Mary was - faring in far-away Pocatello.</p> - - <p>I was the most miserable of them all, and - human-like I tried to fix the blame for all my troubles on - some one else. I started in with the judge who - sentenced me, then back to the Indian that pointed me - out, then to the lawyer who had me arrested, and on - back and back and through it all till I got to my father. - The Sanctimonious Kid, who was something of a - philosopher, said to me once: “Kid, ours is a crooked - business, but we must not allow ourselves to think - crooked. We’ve got to think straight, clearly and - logically, or we are lost. Of course we’ll lose - anyway, sooner or later, but let us not hasten the day by - loose and careless thinking.”</p> - - <p>His advice had not been altogether wasted on me. - I got into the habit of thinking things over carefully. - The trouble was I didn’t always follow out my - conclusions. I knew I was taking a chance staying in - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span>Canada after my escape; yet I stayed. I had long - realized that my every act was wrong and criminal; - yet I never thought of changing my ways. After - thinking it all over with all the clarity and logic and - fairness I could command, I was convinced that nobody - but myself was to blame, and that I had just drifted - along from one thing to another until I was on the - rocks. I hadn’t been forced into this life, and this - predicament, by any set of circumstances or any power - beyond my control. I had traveled along this road - largely of my own free will, and it followed that I - could get on the right road any time I willed it.</p> - - <p>Strangely enough, I didn’t will to do it then and - there. It seemed enough to know and feel I could - do it if I wanted to. No use making resolutions until - my sentence of two years was in. I would wait and - see what that brought forth.</p> - - <p>The same train that I was arrested on, in charge - of the conductor I gave the bill to, carried me to the - prison at New Westminster. My Scotch jailer loaded - me with irons and handcuffed me to a seat to make - sure of me and he delivered me safely. At the town - of New Westminster I looked about me with - interest; it was my birthplace. My parents were married - in the United States, but spent the first year of their - married life in British Columbia, where my father - had some small business interests. He was a British - subject and never took the trouble to become an - American. That left me a subject of Great Britain, - which I still am.</p> - - <p>Like ninety per cent of the men arrested for felonies - I had given a fictitious name and birthplace. My jailer - called me a “damned Yank” because I registered at - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span>his jail as an American. At the prison a more - complete biographical sketch was demanded of me, with - the result that just so much more fiction found its way - into the prison statistics. I was bathed, shaved, - uniformed, measured, weighed, photographed, questioned - at great length, and at last put in a cell by myself. - I was notified that I would get fifteen lashes next day - and that the remainder would be “laid on” one week - before my sentence expired. I was further told very - distinctly that by good conduct I could greatly soften - the severity of the last installment, but that the first - would be administered as the law provided.</p> - - <p>Prisoners passing my cell looked in. Some gave - me glances of sympathy, others grinned. One, a big, - tough-looking gorilla, out of the British Navy, stopped - and taunted me gleefully. “Oh, aye, Yank, I reckon - an’ calculate as ’ow you’ll get a fawncy tampin’ - in the mornin’.” I abused both him and his native - language.</p> - - <p>The convict librarian came along with his catalogue. - I selected a book and he got it for me immediately.</p> - - <p>My cell was furnished with an iron bed, a small - table, a bookshelf, a three-legged wooden stool, and a - galvanized iron bucket. On the bed, folded, were a - heavy, clean pair of blankets and two sheets. On top - of the folded blankets was a straw pillow in a clean - slip. Later on a trusty brought me a gallon bucket - of water, a tin cup, a small wooden vessel to wash in, - and a clean towel. Every movable article in the cell - had my prison number on it, and I kept them till the - day of my discharge. On the wall was a card of - “Rules and Regulations for the Guidance of - Prisoners.” My first act was to read the rules. This was - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[267]</span>prompted by curiosity to learn just what I was up - against, rather than a desire to learn and obey.</p> - - <p>I sat on my stool and tried to read, but my mind was - on the morning. Every hour of the long night I - woke up with the sting of the lash on my back.</p> - - <p>In the morning, after the prisoners had gone to - their tasks, a guard came and took me to a room in - another part of the building where we found the prison - physician waiting. He examined me, pronounced me - “fit,” and told me to take off my shirt. The room was - bare, except for a bench along one wall, and an - arrangement in the center of the room that resembled - a photographer’s tripod, only it was higher and - stronger. Its three legs were secured to the floor.</p> - - <p>A short, thick man in uniform, with a bristly brown - beard and cold blue eyes, came in with a strap very - much like a barber’s strop, except it was longer and - heavier and had a different handhold. He sat on the - bench, eyeing me speculatively. The deputy warden - now appeared and gave an order. The physician sat - down beside the man with the strap. Two guards - led me to the triangle. My wrists were strapped to - the top of the tripod where the three pieces joined and - my ankles lashed to the tripod’s legs, leaving me with - my arms up in the air and my legs far apart, helpless - as any sheep in the shambles.</p> - - <p>“Now, Mr. Burr,” said the deputy warden.</p> - - <p>The man with the strap got up off the bench and - stepped behind me a little to my left. Out of the - tail of my eye I saw him “winding up” like a ball - pitcher. Then came the “woosh” of his strap as it cut - the air.</p> - - <p>It would not be fair to the reader for me to attempt - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span>a detailed description of this flogging. In writing - these chronicles I have tried to be fair, reasonable, - and rational, and rather than chance misleading - anybody by overstating the case I will touch only the high - points and leave out the details. No hangman can - describe an execution where he has officiated. The - best he can do is to describe his end of it, and you - have but a one-sided case. The man at a whipping - post or tripod can’t relate all the details of his beating - fully and fairly. He can’t see what’s going on behind - him, and that’s where most of the goings-on are. - Furthermore, he does not approach the subject with that - impersonal, detached mental attitude so necessary to - correct observing and reporting. Mentally he is out - of focus, and his perspective is blurred.</p> - - <p>If I could go away to some lonely, desolate spot - and concentrate deeply enough I might manage to - put myself in the flogging master’s place and make a - better job of reporting the matter. But that would - entail a mental strain I hesitate to accept, and I - doubt if the result would justify the effort.</p> - - <p>All along I had my mind made up to take my - “tampin’” in as manly a way as possible and to bite - my tongue rather than cry out. Also I had tried to - hypnotize myself up to a pitch where I could bow - my back out toward the blows and hold it there till - the thing was done. The first blow was like a bolt - of lightning; it shocked and burned. Looking back - at it now, it seems to me I jumped six feet in the air. - But I couldn’t have jumped an inch, I was too securely - trussed up. I got through it without squawking, but - fell down sadly on the business of bowing my back - out. With each succeeding blow I shrank farther away - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span>from the blistering lash and when it was all over my - back was concaved, my chest was bowed out, and I - was trembling like a helpless calf under the hot - branding iron.</p> - - <p>It made no difference how I wriggled and squirmed, - I got the full force and effect of every blow, and each - one fell on a different spot. “Mr. Burr,” God bless - him! served his apprenticeship as a flogging master in - the British Navy, and he knew his little book.</p> - - <p>I was untied and stood there a little bit weak in - the knees. My back was blistered, but the skin was - not broken. The doctor took a look at it and went - away. One of the guards threw my shirt over my - shoulders and, holding it on with one hand, and my - trousers up with the other, I was marched out and - up a flight of stairs to the prison dispensary. The - man in charge was dentist, apothecary, hospital - steward, nurse and guard. He was a big, brawny, muscular - Irishman with arms like an iceman’s. While he was - applying a liquid to my back, probably to prevent - infection, I asked him what it was he was using. “You - will speak when you’re spoken to,” he growled severely - with a brogue that was triple X positive. He fixed my - back in silence and locked me in a cell in the hospital.</p> - - <p>It was a year before I spoke to him again and I - waited till he spoke to me first then. Going into his - place one day I found him tugging at a Chinaman’s - tooth. After he got it out and sent the patient away - he came over to see what I wanted. He was puffing - and perspiring, and, feeling rather pleased with his - job on the tooth, wanted to talk to somebody. “Man,” - he said, “that was an awful tooth in that Chinaman. - Sure I thought the jaw was comin’ off of him.”</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span>“Yes?” I inquired. “Was it a molar?”</p> - - <p>“No, man, ’twas no molar; ’twas a back tooth.”</p> - - <p>He was our prison dentist. He wasn’t a bad - fellow at that. He brought me a worn volume of - Shakespeare and let me take it to my cell. I kept it - for months and read it all, and often wondered while - reading it what would have happened to the British - Empire if the spirited Will Shakespeare had been - flogged when he stole Mr. Lucey’s venison.</p> - - <p>I’ve heard a lot about the humiliation and - degradation of flogging. If anybody was humbled and - degraded in my case it was not I. It may sound - strange when I say I am glad now, and was glad - then, that they lashed me. It did me good. Not in - the way it was intended to, of course, but in a better - way. I went away from the tripod with fresh - confidence, with my head up, with a clear eye and mind, - and sustained with a thought from the German, - Nietzsche, “What does not kill me strengthens me.”</p> - - <p>After three days I was returned to my cell and - assigned to work on the farm gang. Mr. Burr, the - flogging master, who turned out to be a very chatty - Scotchman, came to my cell door the first night to - have a talk with me, “so there would be no - misunderstanding or hard feelings.” I don’t think he was - afraid I would try to do him violence; he just came - in a straight, manly way to explain the thing and his - part in it. I didn’t gather from his talk whether he - was in favor of lashing or against it. He appeared - an intelligent, fair-minded man.</p> - - <p>“You’ll find me bark is worse than me bite,” he said - when he was leaving. I had already made up my - mind I ought to hate somebody over the flogging and - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span>had about settled on Mr. Burr. But when he was - gone I thought it all over again and saw there was no - more sense in hating him than any machine I had - carelessly got my fingers into.</p> - - <p>I settled down to my work and had a chance to look - about me. The prison, a stone building, was on the - finest site in New Westminster, a gently sloping - eminence overlooking a broad sweep of the Fraser River - where it widens to its delta. The prison contained - one hundred single cells and the silent system obtained. - There was never any overcrowding or haphazard - makeshifts. When the cells were all filled, a batch of - prisoners was at once shipped away to the eastern - prisons at Kingston, Ontario, or Stony Mountain, - Manitoba, to make room for newcomers. We were - closely watched and guarded by the officers, who were - nearly all ex-army and navy men, iron disciplinarians - and sticklers for the enforcement of rules. I looked - about for some way out of the place, but it seemed - hopeless and I gave it up, settling down to do my time.</p> - - <p>The prison population came from the four corners - of the earth. Sailors and ex-soldiers, deserters from - the navy, a few “Yanks,” fugitives from the “American - side,” Indians from the Arctic Circle brought down - by the Mounted Police to do time for violating laws - they never could understand, and a sprinkling of - Chinamen and Japs. The sixty acres of prison land were - farmed intensively, yielding an abundance of fine - vegetables, hay, and grain. Clothing, shoes, and socks - were made by prisoners. The food was coarse but - wholesome. An American prison commissary would - not believe a penitentiary could be run without beans. - In my two years at this prison I did not see a bean. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span>An English prison warden would not believe a prison - could exist without peas. I never saw a pea in an - American prison. I never saw a cup of coffee in the - place. We had pea “coffee” twice a day. It was - made from peas grown on the farm, threshed out on - the barn floors with flails, roasted and ground like - coffee. It was very nutritious and not at all - unpalatable. We had plenty of vegetables, mush and pea - soup, lots of bread, not too fresh, and not much meat. - The food ration, even to the salt and pepper that - seasoned it, was regulated by law. Every prisoner got - just what the law allowed him and no more. We - always had good appetites, never quite had them - satisfied, had no smoking tobacco, no coffee, very little - meat, and plenty of sleep—the hospital was always - empty and there was not a death in the prison in my - two years’ time there.</p> - - <p>The place was clean and well ventilated. We had - coarse, warm clothing, enough blankets, plenty of light, - lots of good books, and nothing to distract us when - reading. I never saw a bug, flea, or mosquito while - there. The guards were not brutal or overbearing. I - never saw one strike a prisoner; I never saw a prisoner - strike a guard.</p> - - <p>One morning I glimpsed a familiar face and figure; - it was Soldier Johnnie. I forgot the rules, and sang - out, “How long are you doing?” Before he could - answer I was snatched out of the line and locked in - my cell.</p> - - <p>The warden was a hardened man, old, sick, and - cynical. His motto was “Break them first and make - them over.” The guard submitted a written report of - my misconduct, talking. My punishment was three - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span>days on bread and water. The prison had no - dungeon. The prisoner under punishment was kept in his - cell, which was stripped of its furniture and darkened - by placing a blank, wooden, movable door against the - outer side of the cell door proper.</p> - - <p>In my dark cell I thought of Soldier Johnnie, and - wondered if he remembered how they bored a hole - and fed me through it in the Utah prison. All the - yeggs and “Johnsons” in Christendom couldn’t have - put a crumb of bread into this dark cell in this - backwoods prison—it was English. In all the time I was - there I never had a chance to talk to Johnnie. He - was discharged before me, and we had no chance to - compare notes for years.</p> - - <p>My cell was darkened many times and I lived many - days on bread and water before I got my time in. I - came to learn that a satisfying meal may be made of - two ounces of stale bread if it is eaten slowly and - chewed thoroughly. I was chewing my ration of bread - two hours, taking small bits and chewing them to liquid - in my dark cell years before I heard of Fletcher and - his system of Fletcherizing food. My experience with - short rations in many places has convinced me that we - would all be healthier and better nourished if we ate - half as much food and chewed it twice as long.</p> - - <p>I soon got into a feud with the officers and guards. - I talked and laughed and whistled and sang; all of - which outraged the ironbound system of silence. The - Fourth of July came along, and as I was registered as - an American I refused to work on that glorious day. - This was a very serious offense, and I was sentenced to - twelve days bread and water. They opened my cell - every fourth day, put in the furniture, and fed me the - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span>regular prison fare. No prisoner may be kept on - bread and water for more than three consecutive days. - That’s English, also.</p> - - <p>When the Queen’s birthday, the big holiday, came - around, I wrote a note to the warden asking - permission to work; twelve days more, in four installments.</p> - - <p>I read about hay fever in the encyclopedia, and - when haying time came I refused to make hay on the - grounds that I was a hay-fever addict. The doctor - disagreed, and my cell was darkened again. When I - was sentenced there was a law under which all - prisoners got a plug of “black strap” chewing tobacco - every week. While I was in prison the law was - repealed. Newcomers got no tobacco, but those - sentenced while the law was in force, even if they were - life-timers, continued to draw their ration every week. - A rule was posted forbidding a prisoner who drew - tobacco to give a chew of it to one who didn’t. That’s - English, too. I was caught throwing a chew to a chap - that arrived too late, and got another dose of bread - and water.</p> - - <p>At last I tired of bread and water, got on my good - behavior, and took to reading. The prison had a - splendid library, not a worthless book in it. All the - best English authors were there and I went through - them hungrily. I became so immersed in reading that - I was careful not to break the rules lest I lose three - days or more from the books. I got schoolbooks and - studied them. Remembering my poor arithmetic, I - tried mathematics but couldn’t get anywhere. Then - the grammar, but the rules seemed to have been made - for no other purpose than to confuse the beginner and - “repress his noble rage,” so I gave that up, got - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span>intensely interested in a small dictionary, and almost - went into the dark cell for carrying it out with me to - work and looking into it when the guard’s back was - turned. I read the best books in the library, except - the Bible, and would have taken that only I already - had six months with it in the Scotchman’s jail.</p> - - <p>I went through <em>Chambers’s Encyclopedia</em> from A to - Z. Read all about acids and paper, metals and - metallurgy, dies and molds. I studied the history of locks - and lockmaking, poring over the pictures of locks - and their escutcheons—all kinds of locks and keys, - door locks, padlocks, combination locks, nothing was - neglected. I read a most interesting paper on - picklocks and lock-picking by a famous lock-maker of - London. I followed the history of explosives from - gunpowder down to nitroglycerin. I found a passage - that told clearly and concisely which explosives did the - greatest damage and made the least noise. What a - mine of information! I was fascinated. I studied - guns and pistols, drills and saws and files, braces and - bits and drilling machines of high and low pressure - and fast or slow motion.</p> - - <p>I investigated poisons, herbs, and drugs. I - discovered that the finest quality of morphine may be - obtained from lettuce and proved it in the prison - garden by extracting it and eating it. I read up on - sleeping and dreaming and learned just what kind of noise - is most apt to wake a sleeping person; just when he - sleeps the deepest and at what hour of the night his - courage is at its lowest ebb. I can sit in a hotel lobby - to-day and pick out the sound sleeper, the medium - sleeper, and light sleeper. I got it out of the - encyclopedia, and proved it in practice later.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span>The time flew by. I read away the long evenings, - Sundays, holidays, and rainy days. We ate in our - cells and I always had a book propped up behind my - pan of pea soup. My feud with guards was forgotten. - I had no trouble with fellow prisoners; the silent - system and single cells prohibited that. There was no - whispering, plotting, scheming, and snitching as there - is where the congregate system prevails. The stool - pigeon, so fostered and encouraged in American - prisons, did not flourish there. The silence obliterated - him, made him unnecessary.</p> - - <p>There was a little cloud on my mind that began - to grow. My time was getting short, some of my - credits had been forfeited, and not being able to find - out how much, I was uncertain about the day of my - discharge and expected to be called out any time for - the last installment of my lashing. This made me - very nervous, restless, and irritable. The books no - longer held me.</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIX</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">At</span> last I was sent for by the prison tailor to be - fitted into a discharge suit, and knew that I hadn’t - more than a week or ten days to do. A day or two - later the same guards took me to the same room, where - I found the doctor, the deputy warden, the flogging - master, and the triangle all ready for me. I saw - I was in for it. The atmosphere was a little more - “official” than on the former occasion. Mr. Burr’s - beard bristled more, and his eye was a little harder. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span>The doctor looked me over with more interest. The - guards turned their eyes away from mine as they - trussed me up to the tripod, and the deputy warden’s - “Now, Mr. Burr,” was ominously soft, smooth, oily.</p> - - <p>The lashing is regulated by law as is every other - detail of British penology. The strap is just so long, - so wide, so thick, and so heavy. The flogging master - can swing it just so far and no farther. Mr. Burr - did the best he could with those limitations and - reservations, and it was plenty.</p> - - <p>To make an unpleasant story short, I will say he - beat me like a balky horse, and I took it like - one—with my ears laid back and my teeth bared. All the - philosophy and logic and clear reasoning I had got - out of books and meditation in my two years were - beaten out of me in thirty seconds, and I went out - of that room foolishly hating everything a foot high. - I had a chance to cool off during the remaining week - of my time, and the day of my release found me - halfway rational again.</p> - - <p>On my way out of the prison grounds I passed the - deputy warden directing a gang of prisoners. I had - nothing against them; I was going out and feeling - good. I waved them a farewell. He turned on me - savagely, snarling, “Be on your way.” I stopped, gave - him my best dirty look, and turned my back on him and - his prison forever.</p> - - <p>I was in perfect physical condition; the regular sleep, - regular work, and short ration of food had done that - for me. I still had the money the lawyer at Victoria - did not claim on me, the discharge money, and fare - to the town I was sent from; in all enough to last me - a month by careful management. My mind had been - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[278]</span>so unsettled during the last weeks of my time in prison - that I hadn’t decided where to go or just what I would - do. There was no hurry about anything; it was a - fine day; I had my liberty. I bought some tobacco - and papers at a near-by store and lay down on the - warm ground in the green grass under the Indian - summer sun to think it over, take stock, and look to - the future.</p> - - <p>This would be a good place for me to say that I - would have quit stealing then if the terrible lashing - hadn’t embittered me and sent me out looking for - revenge, but that would not be the truth. I don’t - know to this day whether the law contemplates - flogging as punishment, as a deterrent measure, or partly - both. As a punishment it’s a success; as a deterrent - it’s a failure; if it’s half and half one offsets the - other and there’s nothing gained. The truth is I - wouldn’t have quit, no matter how I was treated. - The flogging just hardened me more, that’s all. I - found myself somewhat more determined, more - confident, and with a feeling that I would play this game - of violence to the finish. I had taken everything - they had in the way of violence and could take it - again. Instead of going away in fear, I found my - fears removed. <em>The whipping post is a strange place - to gather fresh confidence and courage, yet that’s what - it gave me, and in that dark cell I left behind many - fears and misgivings.</em></p> - - <p>I got up and went my way with the thought that - I had got more out of that prison and its keepers - than they got out of me. I think the same to-day - of every prison I went into. There were times when - I thought I got a bit more punishment than was - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[279]</span>coming to me, but I don’t regret a minute of it now. - Each of us must be tempered in some fire. Nobody - had more to do with choosing the fire that tempered - me than myself, and instead of finding fault with the - fire I give thanks that I had the metal to take the - temper and hold it.</p> - - <p>I have hopes that these lines will be read by many - convicts and ex-convicts, and they are nothing if not - critical readers. I am not trying to lay down any - “rules and regulations” for their guidance on the - outside, but I want to say this—any prisoner who comes - out of prison saying to himself, “I can’t quit; it’s too - late; I’m wrecked and ruined; every man’s hand’s - against me; if I get a job some copper will snitch on me - to my boss, or if that don’t happen the other ‘cons’ will - blackmail me; there’s no use trying, I can’t - quit”—any “ex-con” who says that is sentencing himself to a - jolt that the most heartless and hard-boiled - criminal-court judge couldn’t conceive of.</p> - - <p>The other “con” who comes out time after time - saying to himself cold-bloodedly and calculatingly, “I - won’t quit,” might change his mind some time and say, - “I will quit.” When he wills it, he does it, and no - copper snitches him out of his job. If there is any - such animal as the blackmailing “ex-con” he gives the - “will” chap a wide berth.</p> - - <p>I now went to Vancouver and took it easy for a - week, resting up, reading papers, and trying to get my - bearings. I saw nothing of Chew Chee, the China - boy. He didn’t show up in the prison while I was - there, and I have no doubt he quit stealing while he - was all to the good and went on the square.</p> - - <p>Falling in with an outfit of bums and beggars at - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[280]</span>Vancouver I heard glowing reports of the prosperous - mining towns in the interior of British Columbia and - decided to visit them. A week’s journey over the - Canadian Pacific Railway and down the Columbia - River found me in the Kootenai mining district. - Everything I touched turned to money. The sudden - change from no liberty at all in prison to all the liberty - in the world almost wrecked me. I didn’t think of - saving the money so dangerously earned, but - squandered it drinking, gambling, and making many trips - across the line into the states where there were more - opportunities for spending and dissipating.</p> - - <p>At last a very valuable parcel of stones found its - way into my hands. It was suicide to try to dispose - of them on the Canadian side, and I bought a ticket - to Pocatello and Salt Chunk Mary. I had been away - from there almost four years, and had no fear that - the town whittler would remember me, even if he - was still on the job, and besides I was hungry for a - look at Mary and for a feed of her beans and salt - pork.</p> - - <p>Arriving at Pocatello I hastened to her place. There - was no change in its appearance except that it looked - more forlorn and weather-beaten by reason of its - contrast with the new buildings that had sprung up - around it. In answer to my confident knock on the - door a very genteel and refined colored woman - opened it and asked me to step in. She looked at me - strangely when I asked for Mary. “Why, Miss Mary - Howard went away more than three years ago. She - sold me the place for almost nothing, settled her - affairs, and disappeared. Nobody in Pocatello knows - why she left or where she went.”</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[281]</span>I inquired at the bank, but they knew no more - about her than the colored lady. I asked no more - questions, but got the first train out for Butte, - Montana, where I disposed of my stones and made the - bums’ hangouts determined to find out the whys and - wherefores of Mary’s disappearance. I remembered - the night she crushed the calaboose for me, and if - trouble had come to her I wanted to shoulder my end - of it.</p> - - <p>The bums all knew of Mary’s disappearance, but - none of them would even make a guess as to what - became of her. Almost ready to give up, I met one - of the oldest and best informed bums on the road. His - “monoger” (a corruption of monogram), “Hannibal,” - was carved on every water tank between the two - Portlands. I made his acquaintance in the Utah - penitentiary, and had met him later on the road. He knew - my connection with Foot-and-a-half George, but did - not know I was with him when he was killed. I had - not seen Hannibal since George’s death, and naturally - the talk turned to it.</p> - - <p>The burglary was long since outlawed, there was - no need for me to conceal my part in it, so I told - him all about the caper. He listened very attentively, - and when I was done said: “You must have been - there, for that tallies exactly with what I heard. Over - three years ago I met a bum by the name of ‘Rochester - Red’ at ‘Stew Junction’ (Puyallup, Washington). Red - was five miles outside of that county seat the night - you and George got that box. This is what he tells - me.</p> - - <p>“He’s just finished a long stretch in the stir at - Canon City. His health ain’t none too good, so he - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[282]</span>jumps over into Utah and down on the ‘poultice route,’ - where he won’t be pestered by bulls while he’s - recuperatin’ on good fresh air an’ green vegetables an’ - plenty of bread and milk. He flops in a haystack - five miles out of the town where you people cut the - caper. At daylight the next morning the hoosiers - drag him out and he thinks they’re goin’ to lynch him. - They take him into the town an’ give him a look at - the stiff laid out on the courthouse floor. He raps to - George, an’ just as you say, he is almost cut in half - by the two shotgun loads. Red don’t see any use in - givin’ himself a bawl-out by identifyin’ any dead - burglars, so he dummies up on the natives an’ in a - couple of days they let him go, an’ he keeps on goin’, - for they are proper hostile. When Roch’ Red tells - me this, I dash into Portland and out over the Short - Line into Pocatello, an’ tells Mary.”</p> - - <p>“What was all your hurry about?” I asked.</p> - - <p>“Hah,” Hannibal replied. “That’s somethin’ Red - didn’t know, an’ somethin’ you don’t know. But you’re - all right, an’ I don’t mind tellin’ you.</p> - - <p>“George and Mary was raised in my home town, - Hannibal, Missouri, an’ George was her brother. They - was a mysterious pair, an’ there’s no use tryin’ to - figure what become of Mary.”</p> - - <p>When my breath came back, I said: “Well, that - explains to me why George ‘sprayed’ Gold Tooth with - all that lead at Pocatello.”</p> - - <p>“Oh, yes. Tell me about that, Blacky. I never - got the straight of it.”</p> - - <p>In return for Hannibal’s tale, I ordered a fresh - bottle, and over it told him the story of Gold Tooth’s - death at the hands of Foot-and-a-half George.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[283]</span>Unable to gather any more information about Mary, - I turned to work again, making the towns of Spokane, - Portland, Seattle, and Tacoma, confining myself - strictly to house burglary, which is “one man” work. - This kind of thievery is fast becoming a thing of the - past. Better lighting, policing, and locking systems; - the apartment house; the building of “tighter” - residences; the better treatment of dogs which makes - them more intelligent; and more efficient and careful - servants have combined to put the old-time house - burglar almost out of business. And that is well, for - of all manner of theft it is the most nerve-racking - on both the burglar and the householder.</p> - - <p>I never crawled into a window that I didn’t think - of Smiler. I never stepped in or out of a door without - thinking of old George. Yet I kept it up for - years, and quit it only because I got tired of playing - the peon for crooked pawnbrokers and getting “fifty - fifty” from the professional “fences.” The fences’ - notion of “fifty fifty” is to put a lead dollar in the - Salvation Army tambourine and ask the lassie for fifty - cents change.</p> - - <p>In the midst of plenty I found myself starving, and - in self-defense turned to the more direct business of - highway robbery. My experience with house - burglary in the small hours of the night left me a nervous - wreck and an opium smoker. Almost every house - prowler turns to booze or drugs. Reader, I’ll ask - you if you wouldn’t take a jolt of booze or hop after - an experience such as this?</p> - - <p>You are a burglar; you have put in a week “tabbing - up” a residence. You decide to “make” it; it looks all - right; no children, you haven’t seen a dog. The night - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[284]</span>arrives. You jump into the yard. It’s two o’clock. - You look the house over. Every door and window - fastened, not even an open coalhole, no porch to go up. - You go back to a kitchen window and perform a - very delicate operation—taking a pane of glass out - piece by piece. Then you put your hand in, release the - catch, and raise the window slowly, noiselessly. You - find inside on the windowsill bottles, boxes, corkscrews, - can openers, and a toothbrush. These you pick up, - one at a time, and place outside, below the window.</p> - - <p>Now you are in the window, and you find that - below, inside, is the kitchen sink. You get in - without disturbing dishes or pans and open the kitchen - door, so you will have a getaway in case anything - causes you to hurry out. You have been almost an - hour getting in the house and you haven’t started on - the job yet.</p> - - <p>It is very dark in the house, but you light no matches, - nor do you use a flashlight; you are an expert, you - know your business. Your years at this work have - developed a “cat” sense in you. You can sense an - object in front of you without seeing or feeling it. You - feel your way slowly, silently into the dining room. - Your eyes are getting accustomed to the dark and you - distinguish a few objects—table, chairs, sideboard. You - sit in a chair and remove your shoes, shoving them - down in your back pockets, heels up.</p> - - <p>You are going upstairs where the sleepers and - valuables are. You button your coat and pull your hat - down over your eyes to hide your face from the - sleeper should he wake up on you and switch on a - light. It takes you fifteen minutes to get up the stairs; - they creak frightfully and you must find solid places - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[285]</span>to put your weight. You know your business, so you - keep as close to the banister as possible, where the - step boards are nailed down tight and can’t shift and - creak. You know the creaking won’t wake sleeping - people, but you don’t know yet whether they are asleep. - If they should be lying in bed awake, they would - know what the creaking meant and you might get - shot.</p> - - <p>Now you are at a bedroom door, it’s latched but - not locked. You take hold of the doorknob in a - certain way and turn it slowly till it won’t turn any - farther. The hall you are in is dark and dead silent. - You push the door open an inch and you can hear the - gentle, regular up-and-down breathing of the healthy - sleeper. You wait a long time, maybe five minutes, - with your hand on the doorknob, listening intently. - Yes, there are two sleepers in the room.</p> - - <p>Then out of this awful silence comes a coughing - from a room at the back of the hall. You stiffen and - your hand goes to your coat pocket. You hear a glass - clink against a pitcher, and you know that man is - awake. You hear him turn over in bed, and straighten - out for another sleep. You remain rigid for another - five minutes and then feel your way down the dark hall - to make sure he has gone back to sleep.</p> - - <p>His door is ajar, and now he is snoring. You wish - he wouldn’t snore; he might wake somebody else, he - might wake himself. Snorers do wake themselves. - The expert burglar doesn’t fancy the heavy snorer; he - likes the sleeper that wheezes gently, softly, regularly. - You feel your way back to the front room. You want - that first. That’s where you have decided the best - stuff is to be found. Your hand is on the doorknob - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[286]</span>again, and you open the door another inch, slowly, - noiselessly.</p> - - <p>Now something soft, yielding, obstructs it.</p> - - <p>This thing that softly blocks the door is probably - a rug or an article of clothing. That’s easy. You - release the doorknob, stoop slowly, and put your - hand around inside. Yes, it’s a rug, a fur rug. You - nip a few strands of hair in your fingers and tug at - it gently. The thing comes to life with a scared howl - that turns your blood to ice water. You jump up, - pull the door shut with a bang, and hasten to the - top of the stairs with sure and certain step. It took - you fifteen minutes to ascend that stairway. You know - every inch of it. You straddle the banister and slide - down—it’s quicker and safer. In the dining room you - slam the door shut, and none too soon. The man - upstairs has released the big mastiff and he’s roaring - at the dining-room door. You made no mistake when - you left the kitchen door open. You dash through it, - pulling it shut behind you just as the man inside opens - the dining-room door for his dog.</p> - - <p>You take the back fence, tearing your clothes. The - big dog is in the back yard now; you hear his ferocious - growls plainer than ever. You run into a vacant lot, - toward the next street. You hear the master urging - his dog to follow you, but he is too well trained and - refuses to leave his own yard.</p> - - <p>The householder is a regular man; not to be balked - of his burglar he opens up with a six-shooter and - empties it at you. After the first shot you instinctively - begin making side jumps like a bucking broncho. You - don’t make as much distance, but you reduce your - chance of getting hit. Every time the gun goes off - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[287]</span>you can feel the slug boring a hole in your back. You - don’t realize it has already passed you when you hear - the pistol crack. His gun empty, his shooting stops.</p> - - <p>You feel like throwing a few slugs in his direction; - but, well, you are in the wrong. You are safe now, it - would only make matters worse if you hit him, and - besides, he and his pistol and his dog have made enough - noise already to rouse the neighborhood and you’re - lucky if you can get out of the block without bumping - into Mr. “John Law.”</p> - - <p>You make a big detour and get downtown safely, - so exhausted from the intense physical and mental - concentration that you are barely able to drag one - foot after the other. Yes, reader, I’ll admit you - might go to your room and to bed and drift off into - sweet, refreshing slumbers; but I never could do it. - I always had to hunt up a hop joint and roll myself - a few pills, “just for the good of my nerves.”</p> - - <p>You are still a burglar, reader. You get up the next - evening, put on a different suit and hat, and go out for - your “breakfast.” You dismiss from your mind the - incident of last night as lightly as a gambler would - forget the loss of a few dollars. You remember the - dog that recognized you in the hotel barroom years - before, and with the thought that it would be well to - keep out of this mastiff’s neighborhood you turn your - mind to the business of the night. You take a long - time to eat, looking through all the papers. You read - about a burglar “shivering somewhere in his lair after - escaping in a panic of fear from Mr. ——— and his - mastiff and pistol.”</p> - - <p>This makes you mad. You say to yourself: “What - do those reporters expect of a man? Do they want - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[288]</span>him to shoot everybody in sight, cut the dog’s throat, - carry out everything valuable, and burn the house - down? Can’t they understand that the burglar’s first - thought is the loot and his second thought is to get - out of the house as quietly and quickly as possible - without harming people when they wake up on him? - And what madness for the householder to try to - corner a burglar in the dark, prepared to resist - capture but not to kill for loot. When he senses a burglar - in his house, why can’t he say in a loud voice, ‘Is that - you, Percy?’ and give him a chance to fade away - quietly? He’ll do it. He knows there are plenty - of other houses.”</p> - - <p>You give it up, put these idle speculations out of - your mind, and go out into the street. You have been - busy locating “prospects.” Your thoughts turn to the - most likely one. There’s the gambler that runs the - poker games in back of the cigar store. He turns - the game over to an assistant at twelve o’clock, takes - the bankroll, and goes home. You decide to “take - him home” to-night. You hang around till he comes - out and get in behind him. You “tail” him to a - genteel-looking place with a “private board” sign in a - downstairs window. He lets himself in with a key. You - are across the street; you wait a while and observe - that a dark room on the second floor has been lighted. - Your man is at the window pulling down its shade. - You have his room located, and you go away to kill - the next two hours.</p> - - <p>Two o’clock; you are in the dining room downstairs. - You were lucky enough to find an open window. You - don’t open any doors here, you decide to retreat by - the window, if necessary. This is a boarding house - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[289]</span>with a number of people in it, and you don’t have to - creep around so carefully. A noise on the stairs or - in the hall of a boarding house doesn’t mean much.</p> - - <p>You go upstairs quickly and find a light in the hall. - You put it out; not by pushing the button, but by - unscrewing the globe a little. You are an expert; you - don’t want any light; you don’t want any one to get - a look at you in a lighted hallway. You prefer - darkened rooms, because in the dark you have the best - of the situation.</p> - - <p>You find his door; more luck, it’s not locked! You - must be careful with this chap; he is a bad sleeper, - thin, nervous, “touchy,” an incessant smoker and a - heavy coffee drinker. You step into the room and close - the door but don’t latch it. He is asleep, breathing, - as you expected, very softly. His clothes are on a - big rocker—nothing in them but some silver and a - watch. You take the silver, “heft” the watch and - leave it; it’s not solid. You’re disappointed, the roll - of bills should have been in his trousers’ pocket. You - feel on the table by the head of his bed; it’s not there. - On the dresser; not there. Oh, well, you’ll have to - go under his pillow after it, that’s all. This operation - calls for your best professional touch; your perfect - technique is needed here; he’s a light sleeper.</p> - - <p>You are on one knee beside his pillow. You lay a - gun on the floor within easy reach. If he wakes up - on you that’s his bad luck; you’ll stick him up, take - his money, and lock him in his room. He is lying - on his side facing you and not eighteen inches away. - You can feel his breath against your face. You pull - up your right coat and shirt sleeves to the elbow, - your left hand lifts the outer end of the pillow ever so - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[290]</span>little while your right, palm down, slowly, carefully, - worms its way beneath his head. Your ear notes his - breathing. So long as it is regular, he is asleep; if - it breaks off he is waking up. While he sleeps he has - no more control over his breathing than over his - heartbeats, and you can plainly hear it, and when you - cannot hear it you know he is awake. With your ear - alert for the danger signal and your hand under his - pillow your mind is racing all over the universe.</p> - - <p>“No wonder,” you think, “they hang men in some - parts of the world for this kind of burglary—going - into a man’s sleeping room with a gun and taking his - property from under his head while he sleeps. No - wonder your hair is graying above your ears, and - wrinkles showing up in your forehead.”</p> - - <p>You make up your mind to quit this racket—it’s - too tough—but your hand goes further under the - pillow. Careful as you are, the slight movement beneath - his head seems to disturb this catlike sleeper. His - breathing catches, halts, and no longer reaches your - ear. You become petrified, your mind on the gun - beside you. With a jerky movement he turns over, - and you wait till he goes sound asleep again.</p> - - <p>His back is to you now, and his head on the farther - end of his pillow. This makes it easier. You explore - and explore, but feel nothing. Slowly you withdraw - your arm. You must look farther; in his shoes, his - hat, the dresser drawers, the clothes closet, and, that - failing, you will put the gun on him, wake him, and - make him dig it up. You have been there almost - two hours. It will soon be dawn; you must hurry. - You search everywhere, but no bankroll. You go - around the bed and your arm is quickly thrust under - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[291]</span>the other pillow in the last hope of finding it. It’s - not there; no use looking farther. You decide to - wake him and demand it.</p> - - <p>Having made up your mind to stick him up, you - must now transform yourself from the silent, stealthy - prowler into the rough, confident, dominating stick-up - man. You walk around to the back of the bed and - stop to plan your new move. Now you have it all - straight in your mind. You will go to the side of his - bed where you first started in on him. That puts you - between him and the door and leaves him no chance - to get out into the hall. You will touch him gently - on the shoulder. He will wake up in alarm.</p> - - <p>“Eh, what? What is it? Who is it? Turn on the - light.”</p> - - <p>Then you will say to him in a firm, kindly tone: - “Listen to me and don’t get excited.” You will put - the cold muzzle of the gun against his neck and now - your voice will be cold, hard, threatening. “Do you - feel that? That’s a gun. If you move I’ll let it go. - You just keep cool and don’t get yourself killed over - a few lousy dollars. I want that bankroll of yours; - I know it’s here. Tell me where it is and make it - easy on yourself—and be quick about it.”</p> - - <p>Yes, that’s the way you will handle him. You start - on around to the side of his bed. You remember you - have been in the room almost two hours and a half. - It will soon be daylight. You look at the window. - Yes, there it is; a faint line of gray down the edge - of the curtain, the dawn. You must hurry. You are - by his side now. You take a better grip on the gun, - reach out to touch him, and—pandemonium breaks - out in the adjoining room.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[292]</span>It’s only an alarm clock going off, but it petrifies - you standing up and tears every nerve in your body - up by the roots. You don’t bolt out of the room in a - panic; you remain perfectly still. Your mind jumps - into the other room. Your sleeping gambler kicks out - his legs, turns over with a jerky movement, mutters a - string of curses, pulls the covers over his head, and - settles himself for more sleep.</p> - - <p>You don’t pay much attention to him now. The - next room concerns you more. The noise of the - alarm clock changes to a dull, empty, hollow protest. - You know somebody has his hand on the bell, - smothering it till he can turn it off. Now it stops. You hear - somebody lumbering about, every step shakes the floor. - He must be a big, heavy man who puts his heels down - first when he walks. You hear him push a button - and a vertical crack of light appears at the head of - the bed you are standing by. You know what - that is. This is an old house, and that’s a folding - door.</p> - - <p>The man now unlocks his door and steps out into - the hall. You step softly to your door and listen. - He goes heavily down the hall, muttering to himself. - You hear him push the light button a couple of times - but he gets no light—you unscrewed the globe; he - thinks it’s burnt out. You hear him open and shut - a door; he is in the bathroom. You turn back to your - man. Then a window is thrown up with a bang in - the room on your other side. Daylight is racing on - you. You can see clearly now. You hear other noises. - The place is becoming a hornet’s nest. You must give - it up and get out. You’re not broke. You don’t have - to risk everything here. You step out of the room, - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[293]</span>close the door softly, go downstairs, and out the front - way.</p> - - <p>Yes, reader, you went down the street and into a - restaurant where you ate heartily. Then to bed for - a good, healthy, sound sleep.</p> - - <p>Not me! I went back to the hop joint.</p> - - <p>You get up the next evening, go to the same - restaurant, get something to eat, and look over the - papers. You find nothing about your doings; you didn’t - expect to. You know the gambler missed his silver. - You know he will suspect somebody around the - boarding house and lock his room door in future. You take - stock and decide to lay off for a few nights and give - your luck a chance to switch.</p> - - <p>You are slowly making up your mind to get out - of this burglary racket; it’s too tough. Suppose you - had stuck up the gambler. Maybe his money was - downstairs in a safe and you wouldn’t have got it. - You would have had to dash out into the street whether - you got it or not. How could you tell who would - be in the street when you went out? The cop on - the beat might be sitting on the front steps. You - might bump into the milk man, the bread man, or - the ice man. You decide that the whole thing is very - uncertain, after all.</p> - - <p>For the first time you see clearly this dangerous - angle of this business of yours. You can plan and plot - and scheme; you can figure out just what you’ll do - from the minute you step into a place till you step - out of it, but the great weakness of it is—you can’t - tell who or what is going to be outside when you go - out, and all your ingenuity can’t overcome it. You - toss the whole thing out of your mind and go to a - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[294]</span>theater. After that you go to your room. It’s a warm - night, you’re in no hurry about going to bed, so you - sit in the dark by the window getting the cool air.</p> - - <p>You wonder who will occupy the transient room - directly across the light well from you. Last night - a woman and two children were in it. They talked - all during the forenoon and kept you awake. You - hope they have gone away. Just as you are ready to - go to bed a light is switched on in the room across the - way. Idly you look over. The window is open and - the curtain is up. A fat man with a pink complexion - and gray hair is standing in the middle of the room. - His door is still open, you can see through his room - and out into the hall. He stands facing you, his legs - apart, hands in his pockets, and his hat on the back - of his head.</p> - - <p>You decide he is about half drunk. He takes his - hat off and throws it out of your line of vision, - probably at the dresser. Now he turns around, goes to - the door, and kicks it shut with a bang. Back in the - middle of his room he puts a fat hand in his capacious - pants pocket and comes up with a small roll of paper - money. He unrolls the bills, looking at them with a - mysterious smile on his fat face. You don’t - understand his smile and wonder if he is thinking how he - cheated somebody in a poker game; he looks like a - gambler.</p> - - <p>The roll interests you, the outside one is what you - call a “salmon belly.” It is a yellowback—a big - bill. The fat man now gets a chair and places it - directly in front of his window, but instead of sitting - down he stands up on it unsteadily. You get alarmed - and watch him intently. Surely he’s not going to - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[295]</span>jump out? No, he takes the string and pulls the - curtain halfway down. All you can see of him now - is his bulky midsection. The upper part of him is - silhouetted against the curtain. He raises one hand - above his head, the hand that holds the bills. You - can see its blurred shadow as he runs it along the - roller at the top of the curtain. He takes hold of one - edge of the curtain now, pulls it down a little till - the ratchet is released, and lets it go up with a rattle - and bang. He puts both hands on the windowsill - to steady himself as he gets off the chair.</p> - - <p>He is still smiling, but there’s no mystery about it - now. You sit in your room not fifteen feet away, - open-mouthed in amazed admiration. What a fox - he is, to roll his money up in the curtain! What a - plant! What chance would a prowler have of finding - his money?</p> - - <p>He sits down with his back to you and you hear - him drop one shoe on the floor; in about a minute - you hear the other one drop. Then he goes over to - the door, turns the key, and snaps the light out. In - fifteen minutes you can hear him breathing like a - blacksmith’s bellows.</p> - - <p>He is healthy, he is a good eater and drinker, he is - a sound sleeper. But the thing looks suspiciously - soft to you and you wonder if the fat man might not - be a smart dick framing for you. You decide he isn’t - because he locked his door.</p> - - <p>“Well,” you say to yourself, “bad luck or good - luck, I’m going after that dough.”</p> - - <p>You don’t mind his door being locked. You know - your business; you have three ways of opening it. - You go out and down the hall to a small room where - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[296]</span>the Chinese bed maker keeps his brooms, buckets, - mops, and other things, and get a small parcel of - delicate instruments you keep planted there. You go - back to your room and wait till, say, four o’clock, when - everything is dead and all the guests are in and abed. - Then you go around into the fat man’s hall, put out - the light, and go to work on his door.</p> - - <p>You go about the opening of his door confidently, - and with a sure touch. You know he is sleeping, you - can hear his gusty breathing from where you stand - outside. Now you have it unlocked, you open it, step - in, and close it. The chair is still in place by the - window. Your ear follows his regular breathing. You - don’t creep around this room as you did in the - gambler’s. You walk over to the chair, step upon it lightly, - put one hand up against the roller, and pull the curtain - down with the other. It makes a little noise. Your - back is to the sleeper, but your ear tells you he is - safe. When the curtain is about halfway down, your - fingers touch the roll of bills, another little pull and - you have it.</p> - - <p>You step down off the chair and find his vest and - trousers. His watch “hefts” heavy. You take it, - and you take the silver out of his trousers—just to - penalize him for trying to be foxy.</p> - - <p>You go out, closing the door carefully behind you. - Back in your room you examine the bills and silver - carefully—you remember the twenty-dollar bill that - cost you two years and two lashings. You find you - have more money than you would have got out of - both the places you failed in; enough to last you six - months if you are careful and don’t gamble.</p> - - <p>You plant your instruments in the little room down - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[297]</span>the hall. Then you go out the back way to dodge - the night clerk, and down to an all-night saloon where - you put the bills away in your compartment in the big - safe. The night bartender is “square”; he knows you - and your business. You want to get rid of the watch - as quick as possible. It’s worth a hundred dollars. - You sell it to him for a twenty-dollar note, glad to be - done with it.</p> - - <p>Yes, reader, I know what you say to yourself now. - You are saying: “Well, he doesn’t have to go to the - hop joint this time.”</p> - - <p>You are right. I didn’t have to go, but I went just - the same. The opium smoker can always find a good - excuse for an extra smoke. I went to the joint to - celebrate my changed fortune and to propitiate - whatever deformed deity it is that is supposed to look - after the luck of a burglar. I must have propitiated - to some purpose, for within a week another stroke of - dumb luck more than doubled my bankroll, and I - decided to take a lay-off.</p> - - <p>Always in the back of my mind was the thought that - some day I would go back and see my father. It - was ten years since I ran away from him. Many - things had happened to me. Something may have - happened to him. He might need money or help. I - was free to go; I had no associates to cling to; I was - under no obligations to anybody. My time and money - were my own. The hop habit was getting fastened - on me, and this trip would give me a chance to break - away from it. The notion of being respectable and - feeling safe and secure for a few months took my - fancy, so I started in to do the thing right.</p> - - <p>My gun and burglar tools went to my bartender - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[298]</span>friend as presents. I was glad to get rid of the gun - for a while. I could get another any time for ten - dollars, and for another ten I could order by mail - more instruments from an ex-burglar at Warsaw, - Illinois, who manufactured them and advertised them - in the <em>Police Gazette</em> as “novelties.”</p> - - <p>I had always followed the Sanctimonious Kid’s - advice in the matter of wearing careful clothes, but - now I satisfied my hankering for a gray suit and hat. - I thought of the leather trunk too, but it had no appeal - any more. I remembered old Cy Near, and smiled to - think how I had worshiped the twenty-dollar gold - piece that dangled from the watch chain across his - ample paunch.</p> - - <p>I soon discovered that being respectable imposed - many hardships and obligations I hadn’t thought of. - One of them is paying railroad fare. I played the - game square while I was at it, and gave up my money - for a ticket and a berth in the sleeper. Here I - encountered another hardship. My professional eye told me - there were many fat pocketbooks beneath the pillows - of my fellow travelers that my professional hand could - have taken when the porter was out of sight, but I - forebore.</p> - - <p>At Kansas City I prowled about the neighborhood - I had lived and worked in, but asked no questions. The - crabbed, cranky widow’s boarding house was closed. - Tex of the larcenous eye was gone, and so were the - card and dice sharks. Cocky McAllister, the hack - driver that helped me rescue Julia, was not around his - old stand. The milkman I worked for, collecting bills - from “them women,” was not at his place. The - theater where Julia worked was still going, but she - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[299]</span>was not there. I passed Madam Singleton’s old place, - but there was another name on the red-lighted pane - of glass above the door. Still I asked no questions; - they were all nothing to me. I could easily have - found somebody to tell me what became of them all - except, perhaps, Julia, but I was a stranger in my own - town and preferred to remain one. My father was - the only one I asked about. At the railroad offices, - in the department where he had worked, I learned that - he was dead.</p> - - <p>A talkative old pensioner on the company who - tended a door told me he had been dead three years; - that he died after a long siege of sickness and had - barely enough money left to bury him decently in the - village graveyard beside my mother. I was not - shocked to learn of his death; we had been too far - apart for that. I wondered if my long silence and - absence mightn’t have aggravated his illness and - hastened his end. I was sorry not to have been with him - when he was sick and needed me. I was glad he died - without knowing what I had done to my life.</p> - - <p>That was many years ago, but I wasn’t thoughtless - even then, and I recall now, distinctly, how I realized - with shame and regret that I had never done one - thing to repay him for caring for me till I was able - to shift, no matter how lamely, for myself. Looking - back now, as I did then, I am forced to admit that - the only consideration I ever showed for him was - this: I never put his name, which is my name, on a - police blotter or a prison register while he was alive, - or after his death.</p> - - <p>I had been dallying with the opium pipe almost daily - for a year, yet I had no trouble when I gave it - up—<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[300]</span>just a few restless days and nights and I forgot it. - I gave this no thought then, but later when I saw an - opium smoker doubled up with cramps and pleading - for hop, and learned he had been “on the pipe” only - three months, I got interested and began thinking it - over and observing.</p> - - <p>My observations and experience have convinced - me that the drug habit, like most of our other habits, - is largely mental. In another chapter I shall submit - a few facts in support of this opinion.</p> - - <p>Kansas City had nothing of interest for me now, - and I left it, never to return. A cheap excursion ticket - took me back west to the town of Los Angeles, where - I finished the winter, fraternizing with the bums and - yeggs from the road, polishing up old acquaintances, - and gathering gossip from the four quarters of the - underworld.</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XX</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">Spring</span> came. For me that meant moving, and - while I was trying to decide where to go I made by - chance the acquaintance of a coal miner who had - worked in a small mine in one of the middle-west - provinces of Canada. In the course of our talks I learned - by asking a few casual questions that the mine worked - between thirty and forty men; that it was on a short - branch road off the Canadian Pacific; that the pay-off - was in cash, on or about the first of every month, - and that the money was shipped by express from the - city of Winnipeg, Manitoba. The fact that the - payroll had to be held one night at the point where it - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[301]</span>was transferred to the branch road into the mine - interested me. I knew the place, and that there was - little or no police protection. There were four or five - thousand dollars that had to lie somewhere in a small - town overnight, practically unprotected. The two - thousand miles I would have to travel meant nothing. - If the thing couldn’t be handled, I would still be in - the midst of fertile fields where I could make a living - without taking tough chances against wised-up city - police and the busy stool pigeon.</p> - - <p>Bidding farewell to the bums and yeggs at “Mother - Moustache’s” wine dump in “Sonora Town,” where - they all hung out and did their drinking, I discarded - my gray suit for a pair of overalls, a rough coat, a - blue shirt, and a cap, and took to the road for a - three-week jump. Through California, across Oregon, and - into Spokane, Washington, where I found my - bartender friend and recovered my “instruments,” which - had been lying unused in the safe. The gun I left - with him, as it was cumbersome and useless to me on - the road. I could get one when I got nearer my - destination.</p> - - <p>On through Butte, Great Falls, and to the Canadian - line I traveled; on north to Calgary again, but this - time I turned eastward and soon arrived at the town - where the mine payroll had to be transferred.</p> - - <p>I had managed my money carefully during the - winter and still had enough to carry me for a few months - by economizing. The first thing I did was to take a - look at the “box” in the depot, which was the express - office as well. I had confidently expected to find a safe - of cheap or obsolete make, such as was generally in - use then in the smaller towns.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[302]</span>One look at this “box” made me regret that I had - ever met the talkative coal miner. It was of the latest - make and belonged in a bank instead of an express - office in a town of two thousand people. It was as - near burglar-proof as any safe could be, and in - addition to this it was “chested,” which, in terms of - burglary, means it had a steel chest inside—a safe within - a safe. I was dismayed. I saw at a glance that it - was too much for me. It was the kind of safe that - discourages the “heavy man” (safe breaker). He - looks it over and says to his mob: “Yes, I can beat - her all right,” and explains to them in detail just how - it can be done. “But,” he finishes, “it would take - three or four shots to get into the guts of her and, - you know, the first shot wakes the natives up. If they - don’t hear another they don’t know what woke them, - and go back to sleep; but when they do hear the second - shot they get up to find out what it’s about. Then - comes the last one, and they’re on top of you with - shotguns and pitchforks. You’ve got to stand them - off and dash out. Where? Why, nowhere. There’s - no getaway here, and I don’t want the coin bad enough - to go against it.”</p> - - <p>I knew if they put the payroll in that “box” it would - be as safe from me as if it was in the bank at - Winnipeg. I couldn’t have opened it if I had it in the - town blacksmith shop for twenty-four hours. - Discouraging as the business looked, I decided to stay - in the place and have a look at the money when it - arrived.</p> - - <p>I got a room at the hotel, hung my coat up on a - rack, and went about in my shirt sleeves trying to - appear like a miner or ranch hand and attract no - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[303]</span>attention. Every night at nine o’clock, when the train came - in from the east, I was on the depot platform with the - town loungers and did as much staring around as any - of them. At last the end of the month came, and - with it the payroll. This night the station agent, who - was telegraph operator, express agent, and everything - else about the depot, was a bit more alert, walking - around with an air of importance, responsibility. - When the train pulled in, he was at the door of the - express car, and, sure enough, out came the payroll - in a small leather container, about the size of a - woman’s hand bag.</p> - - <p>When the train departed, the agent, with a firm - grip on the leather pouch, returned to his office escorted - by the depot loungers. The payroll was locked - securely in the inner compartment of the big safe, and - then the heavy outer door closed upon it, shutting out - any hopes I had of getting my hands on it that night. - I went off to bed sad and thoughtful.</p> - - <p>The next morning at ten o’clock I followed the - payroll aboard the jerkwater train that carried it to the - waiting miners. At twelve o’clock I sat on the - sidewalk across from the mine office and gloomily watched - the paymaster portioning it out to the joyful miners. - In the afternoon I rode back to the main line with - my mind made up to let the thing go and look - elsewhere for something not so tough.</p> - - <p>There was a Chinese laundry in the town and I had - often thought of going into it for a smoke to kill off - the dull hours, and now, both dull and despondent, I - made my way to it and into the confidence of the boss - Chinaman, who made me welcome. He was - hospitable and kindly as all Chinese are who have not become - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[304]</span>sour and suspicious under the impositions of their - white brothers.</p> - - <p>A moderate quantity of opium will not inflame or - distort the imagination. I do not say it is an aid to - clear thinking, but it is a fact that I left the laundry - with what I thought, and still think, was nothing less - than an inspiration.</p> - - <p>The next day I went over the town thoroughly and - looked at every “box” in it. There was not one that - I couldn’t beat. My “inspiration” told me that if I - could put the depot safe out of business a few days - before the payroll arrived again, the agent would be - forced to lock it in one of the other safes in the town - and I might get a chance at it. After traveling the - great distance and spending so much time and money, - I hated to quit without making a try for this money.</p> - - <p>I jumped fifty miles farther east, where I got - dynamite and drills, stealing them at a mine, and - returned to wait another month before I could do - anything more. A week before the payroll was due, - I went into the depot one night with a sledge hammer, - knocked the combination knob off the “box,” battered - the spindle in, and smashed the handle on the door. - Adding another touch to the “burglary,” I left a - couple of crowbars behind, broke open the till, smashed - things generally, and threw cigarette and cigar snipes - and pipe scrapings on the floor. When the station - man opened up the next morning, his office looked as - if it had been raided by a tribe of yeggs that had tried - to wreck it when they failed to open the “box.” There - was a tremendous hue and cry, and a fruitless man - hunt. An inspector of police came, looked at the safe, - and declared the job was done by a band of thieves - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[305]</span>that had been ravaging depots and post offices farther - east. The battered safe was shipped to Toronto to - be opened and repaired by its makers.</p> - - <p>I waited with much anxiety and not a little curiosity - to see what would be done with the leather pouch when - it arrived at the end of the month.</p> - - <p>Two days after the safe and express office were - wrecked, a “redcoat,” as the Mounted Police are - called, was killed by a drunken Indian. Every idle - able-bodied man in town joined the man hunt that - lasted ten days, and my “burglary” was forgotten in - the new excitement. I kept a careful watch on the depot - agent, and saw he was taking the day’s small receipts - home with him every night. I looked over his house - and prepared to enter it in case he did the same with - the payroll instead of leaving it in one of the safes. - My most careful check on his residence showed he had - no children, no dog, no old people in it. He and his - wife were all I would have to contend with.</p> - - <p>On the evening the money was due I went over the - whole thing carefully and satisfied myself that nothing - had been left undone in the way of precaution and - protection. Not a glance of suspicion had turned in - my direction so far, and I was sure that if I got my - hands on the money I could plant it, stand pat, and - weather the storm.</p> - - <p>At last the train pulled in. A mail sack was thrown - out to a small boy, who ran off to the post office with - it. The leather pouch was put into the agent’s hands - and a few of the “regulars” at the depot followed - him to his office. As usual he at once put out the - lights, locked the place up, and walked across the - street to the post office, surrounded by the depot - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[306]</span>loungers. The small mail was distributed in five - minutes, and he turned toward home with the payroll - under his arm, a neighbor on each side of him, and I - half a block behind.</p> - - <p>His neighbors left him at his front gate, and his - wife met him at the front door. I was relieved when - the business resolved itself into a house burglary, for - forcing safes with explosives is an uphill job for one - man and is seldom attempted. The house was new, - well built, and small—three rooms downstairs and two - above. It was in a large lot with a few small trees - and some plants around it. I took up my watch at - once, and from the vacant lot adjoining I saw them - sit down to dinner. After a half hour at the table, - they got up and I could hear them shutting doors, - putting windows down, and fastening them. For a - minute the house was dark, then a light appeared - upstairs, which meant they were going to bed. - Another half hour and the upstairs light was doused. - I walked away. I had “put them to bed” and could - do nothing more till after midnight.</p> - - <p>In the city the burglar finds most people asleep at - dawn; in the country most people wake with the dawn. - I knew I must start early and set one o’clock as the - hour to begin. Allowing myself two hours to get in, - get action, and get out, I could have it over by three - o’clock, which would give me time to plant the money - and be in my room before daylight. My parcel of - instruments and a gun were planted a few blocks away. - I went after them, returned to the house, and found - a place in the yard where I could watch and wait - without being seen by any chance passer-by. With two - hours to kill, I went over the thing again and could - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[307]</span>think of nothing more in the way of precaution. I - had even picked a place in a lot near by to plant the - money.</p> - - <p>At one o’clock I took off my shoes and put them - in my back pockets. There in that house was a big - piece of money. I had put in almost two months - planning to get it, and now that I was ready to “step” - I summoned everything in the way of - professional skill that I had acquired in the years since - the Smiler gave me my first lesson. I found the kitchen - door locked. The key inside was soon displaced and - the door unlocked with one of my own. Once inside - I shut the door; this was in the country and I could - not chance stray, hungry dogs or cats coming in for - food and knocking pans around while I was upstairs. - The door to the dining room was shut, but not locked. - There was a rocking-chair in line between the front - and back dining-room doors. I carefully pushed it to - one side, making the way clear in case of a hasty - leaving.</p> - - <p>At the foot of the stairs in the hall I could hear - the man breathing. The bedroom door upstairs was - open. The stairs were solid, well put together, and - did not creak, but I took a long time in doing them, - wondering all the while where I would find the leather - bag. No such luck as getting it off the dresser. No, - he would surely have it under his pillow. After a long - wait at the door of their room my ears picked up the - woman’s gentler breathing. They both slept the sleep - of young, healthy, tired workers, and I could wish - for nothing more. There was light enough from the - window to enable me to look over the dresser. The - pouch was not there and I prayed it wouldn’t be in - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[308]</span>one of the drawers, for of all the abominable obstacles - that balk the burglar of a sleeping room the bureau - drawer is the first and worst.</p> - - <p>After wasting the better part of an hour going - through the room, I concluded the thing was under - his head. Kneeling beside his pillow, I put the gun - beside me on the floor, ready to my hand, where I - could get it and stick him up if he woke up on me. - The sleeper was lying on his back. His head was on - the middle of his pillow, and directly beneath it was - the leather bag.</p> - - <p>A watch or purse may be taken from under a pillow - with ease, but an object the size of this bag I wanted - will shift the pillow when it is withdrawn. It pulls - the pillow with it, the pillow pulls the sleeper’s head - with it, and he wakes up. When the burglar gets up - against this, he has to put one hand against the end - of the pillow, holding it in place, while he tugs gently - at the spoils below.</p> - - <p>Whether it was my pulling on the pouch I don’t - know, but the sleeping man stirred uneasily and his - regular breathing stopped. I shrank down lower - beside the bed, one hand under his head and the other - at the pillow, breathless from the intense - concentration and suspense. He stirred again and then - floundered heavily over on his side, his back to me and his - head off the leather. I could not hear him breathe. I - was sure he was awake, but not alarmed. After a - heart-breaking fifteen minutes his sleep became natural - again, and I slowly, softly pulled the pouch free from - under his pillow. It was mine now, and it was my - business to hold on to it.</p> - - <p>I took as long going downstairs as I did going up, - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[309]</span>and at last made my way out of the house, closing the - kitchen door softly behind me. Putting my shoes on, - I hastened away to plant the money. In the - neighborhood was a big vacant lot, its boundaries marked by - a row of broken and leaning fence posts from which - the boards had been taken for firewood or other uses. - Pulling one of the loose posts from its place, I threw - the pouch in the hole and jammed the post down on - top of it. The gun and instruments I threw into a - small stream near by. I wanted to be entirely clean - of anything incriminating in case I was suspected, - arrested, and searched.</p> - - <p>In the security of my room I went over the night’s - work. After an hour’s thought I could think of but - one more thing I ought to do. My socks might have - picked up dirt or dust around the house. A particle - of dust, a piece of thread or lint or raveling of cloth - might convict me if suspicion fell on me. Taking the - socks off my feet, I went out and threw them in a - lot.</p> - - <p>Fully satisfied that I had done everything possible - to insure safety, I returned to the hotel. Daylight - was coming on. Going upstairs I met the porter - coming down to open up. He gave me a sleepy - “good-morning,” and I went on to my room and to bed, but - not to sleep. I was in the dining room as usual about - seven o’clock. The room was noisy, every one was - talking at once. A tall man got up from the table, - saying in a loud Western drawl: “Waal, I’m fer - lynchin’ ’em if we git ’em.” A quiet-spoken - Englishman next me at the long table told me all about the - burglary. Out in the street I saw with some concern - that the town was on fire with excitement.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[310]</span>I got through the forenoon all right, standing - around the street discussing the burglary with - acquaintances I had made in the town, doing more listening - than talking. At noon, when I went into the hotel - for dinner, the constable, the hotel men, and the porter - I met on the stairs in the early morning were standing - at the bar with their heads together talking earnestly. - When they saw me they quit talking and went out on - the sidewalk. One glance from the constable told me - I was suspected. I saw that the porter had done his - deadly work; I was due for a lot of questioning. - Along in the afternoon the superintendent of the mine - where the payroll belonged got into town and took - charge of things. There was a powwow in the - magistrate’s office. I saw the hotel porter go in, and braced - myself to take the blow.</p> - - <p>In a few minutes the constable came out and over - to me where I stood with a crowd of natives. “Please - step inside, young man,” he said. Inside a group of - men were seated and I was given a chair. I was - determined to answer no questions. No use in going - into long, detailed explanations of my movements and - have them exploded and discredited on investigation, - and thus strengthen the case against myself.</p> - - <p>The magistrate began on me. “Young man, we - want you to explain your business here. Who you - are, where you’re from, and what you do for a living? - You are suspected as the burglar who last night - entered the express agent’s house and made off with - four thousand and eight hundred dollars cash. You - were seen entering your hotel at daylight this - morning. Explain that to us.”</p> - - <p>My mind jumped back to the floggings, the dark - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[311]</span>cells with their bread and water, to my escape from - jail, and to every other hardship I had accepted - without weakening, and I laughed at him. Here was a - little, pompous fat man blustering under his black - skullcap behind a cheap table with a few legal papers - on it, trying to make me talk.</p> - - <p>I said to him: “Did you ever sleep in my hotel?”</p> - - <p>“Yes,” he answered, forgetting his dignity.</p> - - <p>“Well, then, you know that the wash room and - toilet are in a covered space between the two wings of - the building, outside and at the rear, and to get to - them you go down the back stairs and out a back - door.”</p> - - <p>“Very well,” he replied, “now tell us why you were - at the depot the last two times the payroll was left - off. Why you followed it up to the mine, and why - you followed the agent home last night.”</p> - - <p>I brazened it out with all the indignation I could - muster, reminding him that I was a British subject and - it was my right to stand mute and answer no questions. - The mine superintendent said to the others so I could - hear him: “My men want to lynch somebody; I don’t - know whether I can control them.” I knew all about - miners and knew they never lynched anybody - anywhere. I knew I was in Canada where lynching never - flourished.</p> - - <p>I turned to a group of miners at the back of the - room. “This man says you want to lynch me. Before - you do it, I want to know why.”</p> - - <p>One of them, a giant, red-headed Irishman with - shaggy, white eyebrows and pebbly blue eyes, said: - “Don’t worry, me boy, there’ll be no lynchin’ here.”</p> - - <p>Turning to the magistrate, I said: “You telegraph, - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[312]</span>at my expense, the Minister of Justice at Ottawa that - this man,” pointing to the superintendent, “is trying - to incite these miners to lynch me. And I want a copy - of the telegram and my request made a matter of - record in your office.”</p> - - <p>The magistrate looked confused. The - superintendent said, “I’ll make the complaint. I want this man - held.” The constable arrested me “In the queen’s - name,” searched me and locked me in the town jail, a - one-room affair in a lot back of his house. He brought - me blankets and supper, and left me to meditate in - silence and privacy. I went over everything again. - The shoe was on the other foot this time; they hadn’t - a thing on me. No court in Christendom would convict - me on those shreds of suspicion. I rolled up in the - blankets and went to sleep with the comfortable - thought that the forty-eight hundred dollars might - help me to forget the awful lashing I took at New - Westminster when I got to San Francisco or Chicago - with them.</p> - - <p>Next morning in court it was shown by witnesses - that I was at the depot twice when the money arrived; - that I went to the mine once on the same train with - it; and a woman testified that she saw me walking - behind the station agent and his neighbors as they - went home the night of the burglary. The porter who - spilled the beans finished the trial by testifying that - he met me on the stairs in the early morning; that I - was nervous, acted suspiciously, and tried to avoid - him.</p> - - <p>I made no defense, but set up a loud and long - protest that did no good. I was held for trial and - whisked away to the provincial jail. I was convinced - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[313]</span>that the mine superintendent had engineered the thing - on the theory that I was guilty and in hopes that - something would transpire in his favor while I was waiting - to be tried.</p> - - <p>The provincial jail was like the one I escaped from. - The jailer was sober and decent, giving me plenty of - books and fair treatment. I had a cell to myself, - kept away from the other prisoners, tried my case - mentally every day, and got acquitted every time, and - at night I spent large chunks of the payroll that was - so securely planted in the post hole.</p> - - <p>After three months of leisure, reading and pleasant - anticipations, I went to court. A judge had arrived - for the fall assizes and mine was the only felony case. - The witnesses were all there. I pleaded not guilty - and my case was set for trial at two o’clock in the - afternoon. The judge asked if I had counsel. I told - him I had no lawyer and didn’t want one; that I had - but little money and would need it when I was - acquitted.</p> - - <p>“Better get counsel,” he snapped. “A defendant - that tries his own case has a fool for a lawyer.”</p> - - <p>I replied by asking him to read the testimony from - the lower court before wasting his time trying me.</p> - - <p>While I was eating dinner the mine superintendent - came to my cell and said if I would give up the money - I could go free. I threatened to sue him for false - imprisonment when I got out. He went away mad. - I decided they wanted me to get a local lawyer in hopes - I would unbosom myself to him so he could do the - same with them.</p> - - <p>At two o’clock I was back in court. The judge - was a brusque, businesslike little old man with the - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[314]</span>brisk, aggressive air of a terrier. His hair was clipped - short and his cropped beard grew in every direction. - He wore a coarse suit of tweeds, hobnailed shoes, and - a cheap flannel shirt, with a linen collar and no tie. - He had two sheets of paper in his hand, looking at - them.</p> - - <p>“Have you anything more than this?” he asked the - Crown counsel.</p> - - <p>“Nothing, Your Lordship.”</p> - - <p>“And do you expect me to try a man on this ragged - rot?” Throwing the papers on his desk, he turned - toward me. “Defendant discharged.”</p> - - <p>I walked out and over to the jail, where I got my - belongings—forty dollars, a pocketknife, and a lead - pencil. The constable who made the arrest followed - me all over town—to the barber’s, the restaurant, and - at last to the depot. A train came in going in the - opposite direction from the scene of the burglary, and - I boarded it without buying a ticket. He watched the - train leave, but did not get on. At a junction I got - off and traveled south to a stage-line connection, where - I took the stage back in the direction of my money. - After ten days of maneuvering and detouring, I - reached a settlement off the railroad about thirty miles - away from where I was arrested.</p> - - <p>Hiring a saddle horse there, I jogged away in high - spirits, timing myself to get into the town about - midnight, when I could lift the plant and be far away - before daylight. Everything favored me as I rode - into the town. There wasn’t a stray dog or cat on - the back streets, and every soul was in bed asleep. - Turning a corner, I came in sight of the big, vacant - lot. Yes, there it was. My eye took in the row of - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[315]</span>leaning, rotten posts down one side and across the - front, then to the inner line of the lot where I put the - leather pouch in its post hole. There seemed to be a - change there. Was I at the right lot? Yes, there, - a block away, was the house I entered, plain in the - moonlight. My eye followed the route I took from - the house to the lot. I pulled up the tired horse, - certain I was at the right spot; and I was.</p> - - <p>But on top of the spot, directly on top of it, stood - a long, wide, well-built, substantial, two-story frame - building.</p> - - <p>That hour when I saw the money was lost to me - was probably the saddest of my life. I never got a - greater shock. I am telling this story because it is an - interesting incident, not to cause anybody misery or - mirth. Yet I know that any thief reading it will - groan in sympathy with me. The honest reader will - laugh and say: “It served him right.”</p> - - <p>In the last ten years I have learned money-honesty. - I have come to like it, it has become a habit. I - practice it daily. Some day I may learn to laugh at the - loss of that forty-eight hundred, but I’ll never learn - to like laughing over it. It will never become a habit - to be practiced daily.</p> - - <p>Slumping off the horse, I threw the bridle rein over - his head, left him standing patiently in the street, and - walked stiffly over to the building. As near as I could - judge one corner of it was directly over the spot - where I made my plant. The front and one side of - it covered the line where the decayed fence had - formerly marked the boundary of the lot. Small barred - windows in the cement foundation showed there was - a basement and crushed my hopes that the money might - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[316]</span>be under the building. A careful survey of the place - convinced me that the payroll was gone and there was - no use in hanging around and inviting another pinch. - Right here I should have muttered a string of oaths, - thrown myself into the saddle, sunk my spurs, rowel - deep, into the flanks of my horse, and dashed madly - out of town. Sore from the long ride, I was barely - able to throw a stiff leg over the saddle and settle - down in it. Turning the horse’s head in the direction - of his home, I threw the reins on his neck and let him - jog along as he liked. I was crushed. It was an hour - before I could think rationally. Then the question - came into my mind that is in your mind now, reader. - Who got the money?</p> - - <p>I wish I could tell you, but I can’t. I don’t know. - I wish I could tell what became of Julia, the girl from - Madam Singleton’s. I wish I could tell you what was - done at the Diamond Palace when the tray of stones - was missed, and whether Chew Chee, the Chinese boy, - was recaptured and had to go to prison.</p> - - <p>I can’t answer any of those questions. The nature - of my business was such that I preferred to leave them - unanswered rather than bring disaster by inquiring too - closely. I know the mine payroll never got back into - the owner’s hands. I assume it was found by a - laborer, who kept it. The reconstruction of the - finding of my money and the picturing of its finder - furnished me with many hours of mental relaxation. - Lying in the dungeon or in the hop joint or on the - grass in the public parks, I pieced it together painfully. - But never could I see the lucky finder as an honest - man; nor by any effort of imagination could I ever - picture him as putting the money to any good use. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[317]</span>In the end, he always turned out to be a drunken, - dissolute day laborer, sweating in the sun as he dug - out the ditch for the foundation of that building. I - saw him turn up the leather pouch with his shovel, - seize it, open it stealthily, and thrust it inside his shirt. - Then he threw down his shovel, walked over to the - boss, and demanded his “time.”</p> - - <p>I heard the foreman say: “All right, you’re no good - anyway. I was going to fire you to-night.”</p> - - <p>I followed the finder to the little depot where he - bought a ticket to the wide-open joyful town of - Montreal. There I watched him dissipate my money - riotously in the slums. At last, and with great satisfaction, - I saw him dead in the gutter without a dime, and - followed his body to the morgue, where the coroner - pronounced it a case of “acute alcoholism.”</p> - - <p>After a long tiresome ride I delivered the fagged - horse to his owner and went off to a quiet spot to sum - up and see how I stood with the world. My loss was - not put down to poetic justice or attributed to the law - of compensation. I just classified it as a mess of tough - luck and tried to forget it. An inventory of my - possessions showed one pocketknife, one pencil, a - bandanna handkerchief, tobacco and papers, and nine - dollars. I was a hundred miles away from any place - where I could put my hands on a dollar without - getting arrested at sunrise. I had no gun, no keys, no - instruments. I was a shorn lamb. No one but myself - was to blame for the shearing, and it was up to me to - get busy and temper the wind as quickly as possible.</p> - - <p>In the way of clothes I had those I left Los Angeles - in—overalls, blue shirt, a stout coat, and a cheap cap.</p> - - <p>After bumming a stage ride, beating my way over - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[318]</span>a jerkwater branch road, and stowing away on a - Columbia River boat loaded with dynamite and - explosive oil for the mines, I got into one of the prosperous - camps with a lone dollar in my pocket. The town was - booming; crowded with miners, prospectors, and - speculators. Beds were two dollars a night and meals a - dollar. This caused me no uneasiness, for I knew it - would be easier to get three dollars there than fifteen - cents in the big cities where, in those days, a “chicken - dinner” could be had for a dime and a “flop” on a bare - floor for a “jit,” as the Southern negro affectionately - calls his nickel.</p> - - <p>In a restaurant I met an old friend in the person - of the waiter, who had formerly been a very active - member of the “Johnson” family. He was still in - good standing, although he had retired from the road - after several unfortunate experiments with burglary - and robbery. It was late at night; I took an hour to - eat, and he listened with genuine sympathy to all the - harrowing details of my latest experience. At the - cash register, where he also officiated, my dollar was - no good. He offered to share his room with me, and - when I declined, explaining that I would be too busy - to sleep, he magnanimously suggested that I “prowl - the joint” he lived in. This looked all right, and I - took his room key with the understanding that if - anything went wrong in the place I could say I was - looking for his room and he would alibi for me.</p> - - <p>It was late when I started to look through his hotel. - I lost half an hour locating a sleeper with his door - unlocked, and another half hour pulling his moneyless - trousers from under his head, where he had placed - them from force of habit. I fared better in another - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[319]</span>room, and, calling it a night, hastened to my friend’s - place to return his key and look over my takings.</p> - - <p>The restaurant was deserted. I joined him at a - back table, where he sat cleaning a row of water - glasses. Blowing his breath into one, like a housewife - with a lamp chimney, he polished it carefully with a - soiled napkin. “Did you score?” he inquired.</p> - - <p>“Yes,” I said.</p> - - <p>I spread my money on the table to look it over. - My sad experience with the twenty-dollar bill had - made me careful. The paper money looked safe - enough, and so did the silver except one fifty-cent - piece that was worn smooth and had a monogram - engraved on one side of it—a pocket piece or - keepsake.</p> - - <p>“Take this out in the back and throw it away,” I - said to him; “it’s deadly poison.”</p> - - <p>Instead, he rang it up on the register, saying, “That - will pay your check; no use wasting it. It will go to - the bank in the morning.”</p> - - <p>I went to his room and to bed. At seven o’clock - he came in with this amazing story, and I suggest a - careful study of it by any young man who thinks - stealing is an exact science, and all he has to do is outwit - the coppers.</p> - - <p>“Thirty minutes after you left the restaurant,” said - he, “a guy came in and ate his breakfast in silence. - He laid down a five-dollar bill to pay his check and - the four-bit piece you threw me was in the change I - gave him. He jumped stiff-legged and began - frothing at the mouth when he saw it.</p> - - <p>“‘I was robbed last night in my room. I had to - wake the clerk up this morning and borrow five - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[320]</span>dollars. This fifty-cent piece is mine. I had it last night. - It has my initials on it. I’ve carried it five years. - How did it get into your till?’</p> - - <p>“I told him I took it in an hour before from a short, - stout, red-headed man with a broken nose and about - forty years old. He is going to have a policeman - at the place until the redhead shows up again. I - promised to point him out if I see him anywhere. - You’re safe; but you had better eat somewhere else - for a while.”</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXI</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">This</span> strange coincidence of the marked piece of - silver more than ever convinced me of the necessity - for keeping something ahead so I wouldn’t be forced - to go out and take long chances for short money. - With enough in my pocket now to last me a month, - I gave the town a thorough canvassing for something - worth while. I found many places that appeared to - be advertising for a burglar, and the most promising - was the big general store. It was packed to the roof - with merchandise, and the owners, to save floor space, - had placed the safe behind stairs, where it could not - be seen from the street. I “pegged” the spot for a - week and satisfied myself that after the store was - closed at night no one entered it till opening-up time - in the morning.</p> - - <p>The expression, “I have him pegged,” which has - crept into common usage, is thieves’ slang pure and - simple, and has nothing to do with the game of - cribbage as many suppose. The thief, to save himself - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[321]</span>the trouble of staying up all night watching a spot - to make sure no one enters after closing hours, puts - a small wooden peg in the door jamb after the place - is locked up. At five or six o’clock in the morning - he takes a look. If the peg is in place the door has - not been opened. If it is found lying in the doorway, - that means somebody has opened the door in the - night. If he finds the place is visited in the night he - must then stay out and learn why and at what time - and how often. He now has the place “pegged” and - plans accordingly or passes it up as too tough.</p> - - <p>Dynamite and drills were to be had for the taking - at any mine. I invited my friend, the waiter, to “come - in on the caper,” but he declined for the very good - reason that he had “done enough time.” Compared - with the work I had put in getting the mine payroll - this was simple and I went against it alone, confident - of success and glad I wouldn’t have to split the money - with anybody. The “box” was of a make that has - long been extinct. It was an experiment on the part - of the manufacturers, and a costly one, for the “box - men” soon found a fatal weakness in its make-up and - hungrily sought them out till the last one went into - the junk pile.</p> - - <p>The one I had designs on looked more like an - old-fashioned clothes closet than a receptacle for money. - Its four wheels rested on a heavy wooden platform - that served to reënforce the thin floor of the - storeroom. The work of putting a hole in it, placing the - “shot,” and laying a five-minute fuse took an hour. - The man that does this kind of work alone must now - take a look at the street to be sure there are no late - stragglers around. When he satisfies himself on this - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[322]</span>point he returns and lights his fuse. While it is - burning he goes back to the street some distance away - and plants himself in a hall or doorway till he hears - the explosion. Then when he is satisfied there is no - alarm, he goes after his money.</p> - - <p>I was in the door of an all-night saloon when my - explosion arrived. Nobody appeared on the street - and after a few minutes I went back to the store to - finish the business. Inside, I saw that my “shot” had - resulted in something entirely unforeseen. The outer - plate of the door was torn from its place and lying - to one side, bent and twisted. The force of the - explosion had shifted the ponderous box from its platform. - It had fallen forward on its face and ten sturdy - burglars couldn’t have turned it over. Had it remained - upright the money would have been mine in five - minutes. Lying on its face, its contents were as safe from - me as if they had been in the town bank. The next - day a gang of men turned it partly over and one of - the clerks finished opening it with a crowbar I left in - the store.</p> - - <p>The storekeepers said “there was nothing in the - safe anyway.” My friend, the waiter, who stood by - when it was opened, said they hurried to the bank - with a fat package and “what was in it was plenty.”</p> - - <p>This failure took the heart out of me for a few - days, and I don’t know what depths of despondency - I might have wallowed in but for my friend. He - suggested, with the best intentions I am sure, that I take - a job washing dishes in the place where he worked. - This was a jolt to my pride. Of course I had nothing - against dishwashers or dishwashing. I saw that any - able-bodied dishwasher would have more to show for - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">[323]</span>his ten years’ hard work than I had for mine, and if - I had been in the notion of going to work I would - have taken that kind of job as quick as any. But the - thought of working was as foreign to me as the - thought of burglary or robbery would be to a settled - printer or plumber after ten years at his trade. I - wasn’t lazy or indolent; I knew there were lots of - easier and safer ways of making a living, but they - were the ways of other people, people I didn’t know - or understand, and didn’t want to. I didn’t call them - suckers or saps because they were different and worked - for a living. They represented society. Society - represented law, order, discipline, punishment. Society - was a machine geared to grind me to pieces. Society - was an enemy. There was a high wall between me - and society; a wall reared by myself, maybe—I wasn’t - sure. Anyway I wasn’t going to crawl over the wall - and join the enemy just because I had taken a few - jolts of hard luck.</p> - - <p>I did go over the wall in the end and take my hat - off to society and admit I was wrong, but I didn’t do - it because of discouragement, because I was afraid of - the future, because of the police. I didn’t do it because - I realized I was wrong; I knew I was wrong years - before. I did it because—but that’s a separate story, - to be told later, in its place.</p> - - <p>So, instead of following the waiter’s advice, I busied - myself with a few careful hotel burglaries, got a small - bankroll together again, bought some presentable - clothes, and kept looking around for a decent piece - of money. The booming mining town had its share - of gamblers, women of the night, thieves, and hop - fiends—nearly all of them renegades or fugitives from - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">[324]</span>the “American side.” Their leisure time was given - to drinking or smoking hop. I had weaned myself - from gambling. I was naturally a light drinker. So - it fell out that, in this town of no amusements, the hop - joint claimed me.</p> - - <p>One afternoon as I lay smoking my day’s portion - of hop a voice, a woman’s voice, strangely familiar, - came to me through a thin partition from the - adjoining room. When she finished talking to the Chinese - boy that attended the hop layouts, I fell to wondering - who the speaker could be. My contact with women - had been very limited, and it didn’t take much - elimination to fix the voice as that of the street girl of - Chicago, the girl from whose crib I had carried the - dead man; the girl I avoided because I believed she - had carelessly killed him with an overdose of some - drug. Just to satisfy myself that I was right, more - than anything, I got up and stepped into her room. - No mistake; it was she. She knew me instantly and - I needed no introduction, no sponsor.</p> - - <p>Irish Annie had changed. She was now a - well-poised, confident woman. The world had treated her - better than it does most of her kind, and yet she was - not spoiled. She instantly referred to “that awful - night,” and sincerely acknowledged the service I had - done her. We compared notes roughly. She had left - Chicago to avoid going to jail for a theft, and after - many hardships and adventures found herself in this - British Columbia mining camp. A lucky prospector - in the mines, finding himself rich overnight, had bought - an establishment for her and she was prospering.</p> - - <p>To show her gratitude to me, she gave a blowout at - her place, introduced me to her “girls” as “an old - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">[325]</span>friend from the States,” set a room apart for me, and - insisted upon me making her home my home. The - Chinese boy brought meals to my room, a hop layout - was procured so I could smoke in peace and security. - My room was more comfortable than any I could have - had in a hotel, the meals were better than at the - restaurants, I was treated with deference by everybody - in the place, so I remained there. I paid the rent - on rent day, ordered the liquors and provisions, and - “slipped” the town marshal his “once a week.” The - Tenderloin, the marshal, and his deputies accepted - me as Annie’s protector and the man about the - place—something I was not and did not aspire to be. I - didn’t take the trouble to enlighten them. I preferred - to have them believe anything rather than the truth. - This would make my stealing easier.</p> - - <p>This soft life that loomed before me in Irish Annie’s - had about as much lure for me as the dishwashing - job. Without taking her into my confidence, I went - on with my burgling. That was my trade and I would - not leave it for a job in a restaurant, a “job” in - Annie’s, or a position in a bank.</p> - - <p>Winter came with a rush and a roar. I had thought - of getting away from the North, but it came before - I was prepared and there was nothing to do but stick - it out with the others.</p> - - <p>Of all the gamblers that found their way into this - camp “Swede Pete” was probably the cleverest. I - knew him from towns on the “American side,” where - he played in all the big poker games with more or less - success. He submitted a scheme to me that looked - very good. His plan was to buy a box of playing - cards, mark each deck, and have me, as a capable - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">[326]</span>burglar, go into one of the big poker rooms, open the - card locker, and substitute his box of marked cards - for a box of legitimate cards belonging to the house. - I looked at the place and saw my end of the business - would be simple. He went to work on his cards, and - after many days and nights of patient toil put his - “work” on them so he could read them from the back - as easily as from the front. When he had replaced - the seals on each deck and on the box that contained - them, he put them in my hands and it was but an hour’s - work for me to put them in the locker and return to - him the full box that his had replaced.</p> - - <p>The following night he sat in the game as usual. - Whenever he lost a pot he threw the unlucky deck - on the floor and ordered a fresh one. After a night - or two of this, the gamekeeper had to open a fresh - box. This was our box and Pete’s luck changed at - once. In a couple of nights’ play he got the long end - of the money in the game. From what I heard and - saw I estimated his winnings, or stealings, at three - thousand dollars. It was understood that the money - should be split evenly between us. When he gave - me my end of it he declared he had won but fifteen - hundred and that he had to have a man in the game - with him and the money had to go three ways. I - took the five hundred dollars knowing I was getting - the worst of it and wondering how I could get even.</p> - - <p>Pete was a big, six-foot, blond giant, good-natured, - generous, and with a laugh you could hear a block. - Everybody liked him; he was a good spender and a - good loser. He carried a bankroll of several thousand - dollars, as I knew, but the thought of robbing him - never entered my mind till he burnt me in the - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">[327]</span>marked-card transaction. He was interested in a saloon and - had a game of his own in a rear room. I watched - him carefully and learned that when the game and the - bar were closed for the night he put his bankroll in - the cash register, locked it, and went to bed in a - comfortable little room that adjoined the big barroom. - Apparently his money was safe. He left his room - door open; the register could not be opened without - waking him.</p> - - <p>After thinking the matter over pro and con, I - decided to beat off the barroom, carry the register out - and into the alley and smash it open with an ax. Every - night for a week I watched him from across the street - and saw him make up his cash for the day, then put - his own money in the register, lock it carefully, and - go into his bedroom. Satisfied on this point, I - now kept away from his place so as not to be too - fresh in his mind on the morning after I got his - money.</p> - - <p>At last a stormy night came that drove everybody - off the street. I kept out of the neighborhood of Pete’s - place till four o’clock in the morning. I had no trouble - getting into the barroom through a door opening into - the hall that separated the saloon from the hotel office. - Carefully removing a lot of glasses from around the - register, I lifted it and placed it on the bar. Then I - had to go around the bar, pick it up again, and carry it - out into the hall where I put it on a table while I went - back to close the door. All the while Swede Pete was - snoring like a horse.</p> - - <p>Lifting the heavy weight again, I made my way - slowly to the sidewalk. Groping along in the blinding - storm of snow and sleet, I missed my footing and fell - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">[328]</span>flat on my back with the heavy register fair on my - chest. Its sharp edge dug into my ribs and although - I never went to a doctor, I believe to this day a couple - of them were cracked or splintered. Unable to lift it - again, I tied my handkerchief in the grill work at the - top of the thing and painfully dragged it to an opening - between two buildings and down into the alley where I - had planted an ax.</p> - - <p>I was morally certain Pete’s money was in it. I saw - him put it there the night before, but on this last night - I had kept away, not caring to be seen about his place. - There was one chance in a million that he hadn’t - locked the register, so before attacking it with the ax I - touched one of the keys. The bell did not ring, but the - cash drawer opened. But to my dismay it did not slide - out with the slow, labored, obese movement of a cash - drawer loaded with heavy gold and silver; instead it - shot out with a thin, empty, hollow jerk that told me - there was nothing in it.</p> - - <p>With numb and freezing fingers I explored the little - cups only to find them bare of coin. The compartments - in the back gave up no fat bankroll. The thing was as - empty and as inviting as a new-dug grave. This last - blow was too much for my philosophy. Cursing the - snow and sleet and every organic thing, I started back - determined to go into Pete’s bedroom and search for - his money. I was too late. At the door I looked into - the hall and saw the porter limbering up for another - day’s work.</p> - - <p>Sad and sore I turned away and trudged through the - storm to my room at Irish Annie’s where I found food - and drink and light and heat and the consoling hop - layout.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">[329]</span>I was out early the next afternoon to find out what - had happened at Swede Pete’s that caused him to shift - his money. He was around town drunk as a ragman, - going from one bar to another, buying drinks for all - hands, and telling with great relish how he had saved - his bankroll from the “burglars.” I heard his - boisterous laugh as I was passing one of the saloons and went - in to get an earful. He threw an American - twenty-dollar piece on the bar, and as it bounced up and down, - roared: “Yump, you beggar, yump! Many times I - ha’ to yump for you.” Then everybody was invited - to drink and listen to his tale.</p> - - <p>I gathered from it that his cash register “bane on - the bum.” Something got wrong with its locking - arrangement the night before, and Pete took his money - to bed with him. “Ay take the old bankroll and throw - her under the mattress and lay my two hundred pounds - Swede beef on her,” he finished with a roar. Then, - bouncing another gold piece on the bar, he ordered it to - “yump” and the house to drink. If he suspected me he - didn’t show it, and I went out not relishing his talk or - his liquor. I thought of sticking him up, but he knew - my voice and that wouldn’t do. I thought of - chloroform, but my awful experience with the Chinamen - warned me against it. I had no desire to get tangled - up with Pete’s “two hundred pounds Swede beef” - that wasn’t beef at all, but bone and muscle he put on - in his youth as a laborer in the Northwest lumber - camps. After much thought, I let him go and gave him - up as a total loss.</p> - - <p>I don’t know what the statistics show, but I should - say that for every five hundred burglaries one burglar - gets arrested. On the other hand, my experiences - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">[330]</span>showed that if the burglar gets what he is after one - time in five he is lucky.</p> - - <p>After my bad luck with the big Swede I sat down and - gave my system of stealing a good overhauling. As - near as I could calculate ten thousand dollars had - slipped out of my hands since I left Los Angeles. I - wasn’t satisfied to put this down to tough luck entirely. - I saw that carelessness had something to do with it. I - should have planted the mine payroll in a safer place. - A more careful and experienced “blacksmith” would - have taken measures to prevent that big safe from - falling on its face and burying the money beyond reach, - and in the matter of Swede Pete I was careless and - overconfident, in not checking on him the night I went - after his money. Figuring that my luck was about due - to change for the better, I resolved to pull myself - together, tighten up my system, and look around me - for something else.</p> - - <p>If business houses took as much precaution in - protecting themselves from thieves as thieves do in - protecting themselves from the police, the business of - burglary and robbery would reach the vanishing point - in no time. Thieves are occasionally careless; business - men are habitually so; both pay for their carelessness - sooner or later.</p> - - <p>In looking about for some worth-while endeavor, I - came upon an instance of carelessness on the part of a - business man that I never saw equaled in all my years - of stealing. It cost him a small fortune in diamonds - and sent him into the bankruptcy court. The - Christmas holidays were coming on, and the jewelry store in - this mining camp spread out a display of stones that - would have done credit to any large city. I was - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">[331]</span>naturally attracted; and began investigating the jeweler’s - system. I found that he slept on the premises in a - room back of his storeroom. He testified in court later - that he carried no burglary insurance, that he could not - get fire insurance because the town had no fire - department, and that he slept in his store to protect himself in - case of fire or attempted theft. I watched him closely - through every business hour of the day—from seven to - eight o’clock one day, from eight to nine the next, from - nine to ten the next—and so on through the entire day - from his opening hour till he closed at night. I found - that he left his store in darkness to save on the light - bill, and to my amazement I also found that, instead of - locking his safe carefully and completely at night, he - gave the combination knob only a quarter turn, leaving - it “on the quarter,” or only partly locked and at the - mercy of any one with a working knowledge of - combination locks.</p> - - <p>This putting out of the lights and careless locking of - his safe was entirely due to a feeling of security because - he slept in his place of business.</p> - - <p>After gathering every scrap of information - available, I was sure I could “take” the spot if I got a fair - break on the luck. The rear room of the place was - used as a workshop. This made it possible to enter - the back door without waking the owner, who slept in - a small room between the shop and the big front - storeroom. When I decided to go against this thing, I sat - down and looked far ahead.</p> - - <p>The stones would have to go to the “American side” - to be disposed of in some big city. I decided on San - Francisco and planned my route there. Irish Annie - was no small problem. I had no intention of confiding - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">[332]</span>in her or giving her any part of the junk, if I got it. I - was under no obligation to her. Our relations were - just those of two social outcasts, thrown together by - chance, and our parting could mean nothing to either - of us. To disarm any suspicions she might have later - on, I told her I planned to go to Carson City, Nevada, - for the big fight between Fitzsimmons and Corbett. - This would give me a reasonable excuse for leaving - after the burglary.</p> - - <p>With the five hundred dollars I got from Swede - Pete and more I had picked up around the hotels, I - was amply supplied with expense money and had no - worry on that point. Two weeks ahead I bought an - old Indian cayuse and a cheap secondhand saddle and - bridle, planning to ride across the boundary line fifteen - miles distant, plant the junk, and return before the - burglary was discovered.</p> - - <p>The old horse was staked out in a corral where I - could get him at any time. I even rode to the - “American side,” crossing the Columbia River, which marked - the boundary, on the ice, and picked out a place to plant - my stuff. A week ahead I rented a front room in a - lodging house across the street and from my window - watched every move in the store every evening. I saw - the boss go out to dinner, leaving the place in charge - of his clerk and an apprentice boy. I saw his man in - the repair shop go out and away. I saw the boy go - home after the boss returned, and later saw the clerk - depart. An hour after, the owner began gathering the - most valuable articles from show window and show - cases, placing them in specially made trays and boxes - that fitted snugly in the safe. Then the big door swung - shut, and a quarter turn of the knob locked it so that it - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">[333]</span>could be opened quickly in the morning by the lazy, - careless owner, or just as quickly at night by an - industrious, careful burglar.</p> - - <p>My mistake in not checking Swede Pete the night - before was not repeated here. When the final night - came I stood in the snowstorm outside the window, cap - pulled down and overcoat buttoned up, looking - carelessly at the cheap articles he left there overnight. - When he locked his safe as usual, I went back to my - room across the street and saw him secure his front - door, put out the lights, and go back into his bedroom.</p> - - <p>At one o’clock I was at the back door of the store - and after a few minutes of the most careful work I - stood in the warm workshop where a big stove still - glowed in the dark. The doors inside were open to - allow the warm air passage into the sleeper’s room and - the front room beyond. I had all the luck at last.</p> - - <p>There was no serious obstacle. The sleeper slept - on. The safe door opened as easy for me as for him. - The inside of the safe was like a beehive—fifty watches, - wound up, ticked noisily. Some years ago jewelers - thought watches should be kept running all or part of - the time to insure perfection. I believe this is no longer - done. For fear their ticking should wake the sleeper - when I passed through his room on my way out, I - wrapped them in their box in my overcoat. Taking - nothing else except some gold rings, all the stones, and - what money was in the cash drawer, I closed the safe, - went back out the rear door and, closing it carefully, - departed unseen.</p> - - <p>All my junk went into a grain bag at the corral, - where I kept the old cayuse. He was gentle as a dog, - but the ticking of the watches almost drove him frantic. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">[334]</span>He reared and pawed and snorted in fear. I couldn’t - get into the saddle, and had to snub him up to a tree - where, for ten or fifteen minutes, I let him listen to - the ticks and get over his fright. At last he cooled off - and allowed me to mount him and turn his head south - toward the “line.” Riding away, I looked back over - the night’s work and thought with satisfaction that no - human being could possibly suspect me of it.</p> - - <p>In the small town across the line I planted the stones - and cash carefully in the plant I had prepared, but put - the watches in another place where they could tick - themselves out in security. At seven o’clock in the - morning the faithful old horse was back in the corral, - well fed and rubbed down, and I was in my room at - Irish Annie’s. In the afternoon she came in with the - small town “Extra” paper. I saw that this burglary, - one of the simplest and easiest of my life, was by far - the most profitable. Diamonds valued at twenty - thousand dollars, wholesale price, fifty watches, five - hundred dollars cash, and a parcel of gold wedding rings - roughly outlined the loss. I immediately - “pooh-poohed” the business to her, telling her I knew enough - about burglary to see that it was an inside job and that - it was done by the storekeeper to beat his creditors. - She believed me and no suspicion whatever found - lodgment in her mind.</p> - - <p>The next day’s paper questioned the burglary. It - was hard to believe that any sane man could be guilty - of such carelessness as the jeweler frankly admitted. - He also admitted that the stock was taken on - consignment, that the stones were not paid for, and that if - they were not recovered he would be broke and - bankrupted. The town was divided as to whether he had - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">[335]</span>robbed himself, and the marshal and his deputies - remained dormant.</p> - - <p>I paid another week’s board for the old horse, and - another week’s rent for the room opposite the - jeweler’s. I had no use for them any more, but thought it - safest not to give either of them up too soon and chance - arousing suspicion.</p> - - <p>After a restless month I said good-bye to Annie and - to the “Canadian side.” Leaving the watches and rings - where they were, I dug up the plant of stones and cash, - and went into Spokane, where I threw away my good - clothes, put on overalls, a mackinaw coat, a - lumberjack’s cap, and bought a cheap ticket to Seattle. There - I changed again, buying an expensive outfit of clothes - and other things necessary for the traveler. Three - days later I was in San Francisco, safe, secure, and - unsuspected.</p> - - <p>My first act was to put the stones in a safety box, - tear up the receipt, and plant the key in a safe, - convenient place. Then began the toughest part of the - business, getting the stones off my hands and into cash. - Day after day I sorted out the larger ones and in my - room “unharnessed” them from their settings. Other - articles, clusters and sunbursts, were left intact in their - settings—to remove them would depreciate the value. - I had many of the best stones reset and sold them for - fair prices openly to bookmakers, prize fighters, - jockeys, gamblers, and women about town. My money - went into the bank, and for the first time in my life I - carried a check book.</p> - - <p>I was careful, kept clean and sober and away from - the hop joints and thieves’ hangouts. For once in my - life I managed to get a fair price from pawnshops for - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">[336]</span>some of my junk. Taking one of the reset rings that - was perfectly safe and impossible of identification, I - would step into the pawnbroker’s at lunch time and - always when there were other patrons in his place. - The average thief is duck soup for the hockshop man. - He will walk by the hockshop and look in. The - hockshop man sees him and knows he has something “hot,” - or crooked. If there is anybody in the place but the - employees, the thief waits till they go out before going - in. This convinces the pawnbroker he has a thief to - deal with and he offers him half what he would offer - an honest man with a legitimate article.</p> - - <p>Instead of sneaking into a hockshop, taking a ring - out of my pocket, and saying, “How much can I get on - this?” I walked in confidently, held out my finger with - the ring on, and said: “I want to pledge this ring for - one hundred dollars till pay day. My name is so-and-so. - I work for such and such a firm. I lost some of my - employer’s money at the race track and must have it - to-night.”</p> - - <p>I always asked for a sum far in excess of what I - expected, but that served to convince the pawnbroker - I knew nothing about pawning things, that I was - honest, that the ring was mine and that I would probably - redeem it. After inspecting it, he would offer me much - more than if he thought it was crooked. If it was - redeemed he would get his big interest, and if not he - would still be safely below the wholesale price, which - is the dead line for him.</p> - - <p>In one way and another I unloaded most of my - stones to advantage. I could go about with them one - at a time in safety; they were impossible of - identification when out of their original settings. While I was - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">[337]</span>trying to find some safe way of selling the pieces I had - left in their settings, I met by chance a young chap I - had known on the road. He had settled down, got - married, and was making a semi-legitimate and - uncertain living gambling. He was square enough, and I - arranged with him to sell them for me. He was in San - Francisco when the burglary was committed and was - in no danger of being charged with it if he did get - arrested.</p> - - <p>He got rid of them quickly to his friends in the - Tenderloin and to small pawnshops, getting a price - that satisfied me and left him a good profit. I cleaned - everything up and quit with eight thousand dollars in - the bank and several very nice stones that I wanted to - keep. Of late I had thought of buying a saloon some - time and leaving the burglary business. Now, as I - looked over the small dives and joints with their - hangers-around, their discordant pianos and beery-voiced - singers, and drunken, bedraggled women, I found they - had no attraction. Now that I could have one of those - places I didn’t want it.</p> - - <p>The notion of going into any decent business never - occurred to me. Without any definite notion of what - to do, I settled down to have a few months of ease - and relaxation. The race tracks and gambling houses - were running wide open, but I kept away from them - and didn’t get hurt. The wine dumps, the “Coast,” - Chinatown, and the dingy dives that fascinated me - when I first saw them, no longer held anything of - interest.</p> - - <p>I’m not finding fault with these brave days of jungle - music, synthetic liquor, and dimple-kneed maids, and - anybody that thinks the world is going to the bowwows - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">[338]</span>because of them ought to think back to San Francisco - or any other big city of twenty years ago—when train - conductors steered suckers against the bunko men; - when coppers located “work” for burglars and stalled - for them while they worked; when pickpockets paid - the police so much a day for “exclusive privileges” and - had to put a substitute “mob” in their district if they - wanted to go out of town to a country fair for a week. - Those were the days when there were saloons by the - thousand; when the saloonkeeper ordered the police - to pinch the Salvation Army for disturbing his peace - by singing hymns in the street; when there were - race tracks, gambling unrestricted, crooked prize - fights; when there were cribs by the mile and hop - joints by the score. These things may exist now, but - if they do, I don’t know where. I knew where they - were then, and with plenty of money and leisure I did - them all.</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXII</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">The</span> young fellow that helped me dispose of the - stones was the wayward son of a fine family and it - would not be right to them to use his name. I will call - him “Spokane,” the monoger he was known by among - his associates. He had been in San Francisco for years - and was familiar with an underworld that I had seen - very little of. Most of my life had been spent on the - road or roughing it in out-of-the-way places, broken by - a few months now and then in city slums. He - introduced me into the elegant hop joints where we smoked - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">[339]</span>daily, into the hangouts of polished bunko men and - clever pickpockets, into the gilded cafés and other - exclusive and refined places of entertainment.</p> - - <p>I grew tired of this life after a few months and - suggested to Spokane that he go up to the Canadian line - and lift the plant of watches and rings. The burglary - cry had died out and I had arranged to sell them all - where they would never rise up to accuse me. This trip - suited him, as it would give him a chance to visit his - people in Spokane, Washington, and it pleased me to - have him go because I didn’t want to take chances with - the watches which were all numbered and easy of - identification. I had left them behind me rather than carry - the bulky package around and chance losing the more - valuable stones because of it. I gave him a diagram - of the spot where the plant was, supplied him with - tickets and traveling expenses, and sent him on his way - with instructions to express the parcel to the San - Francisco express office, value it at twenty-five - dollars, and tell the express agent it contained samples - of ore.</p> - - <p>To make everything safe and sure, I further - instructed him to stand at the depot when the train - was in and make sure the parcel went into the express - car, then to take a train the next day and come back to - San Francisco by an indirect route which would protect - him in case anything happened to the package en route. - I put in a couple of anxious weeks, but he showed up in - due time with the good news that he had located the - junk without trouble and sent it along exactly as he had - promised. He called for it at the express office the - next day, but it hadn’t arrived. Not caring to make - too much fuss over a package valued at twenty-five - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">[340]</span>dollars, we waited a few days before he went back for - it. The express office was in Montgomery Street then, - and I stood in the Palace Hotel entrance where I could - look across the street and see him showing the receipt - and arguing with the clerks. His willingness to go to - the office every day convinced me he was on the square. - He had a receipt for the package; I assumed it had - gone astray.</p> - - <p>We talked the thing over and decided there was - nothing to be afraid of. If the parcel had been seized - by the police he would have been pinched at the express - office. I began to get suspicious after a week and was - for abandoning the whole thing, but Spokane insisted - on making another call. From my spot across the - street I saw two men fall on him when he spoke to the - clerk and knew he was arrested.</p> - - <p>I went straight to my room, got everything and - moved to another, where I sat down and tried to figure - out what had happened and what to do. His arrest - was a mystery, but it was plain to me that I must either - jump out on him or stay and help. I was clean, there - wasn’t a scrap of evidence against me. If I deserted - him that might cause him to squawk, and with his - testimony they could convict me if they got me. I knew - the police would accuse him of the burglary and that - he could and would convince them in an hour that he - was in San Francisco when it occurred. That would - start them on a hunt for another man, and that would - bring them to me, for I had been seen with him daily - for months. I saw I would be picked up; I saw they - could prove I was in the town where the burglary - was committed, and at the time. But they could get no - further. The evidence to convict me was not in - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">[341]</span>existence. I could not be convicted without Spokane’s - testimony.</p> - - <p>I was reasonably certain he would protect me if I - protected him. I sent and found that the police had - not been to the room I deserted; that meant he was - standing up. I decided to stay and take a pinch and - have the business settled while I had money to fight. - After making this decision I cleaned up a few odds and - ends of jewelry, put them away in my safety box, and - left the key in a secure place. I took a thousand - dollars in hundred-dollar bills and secreted it in different - parts of my clothes. The pawn tickets had all been - destroyed the minute we got them. I felt perfectly - secure, and went openly around the hangouts waiting - for the blow to fall.</p> - - <p>It came in a hurry, and to my surprise I was put in - the cell occupied by Spokane. I learned later that the - cell had some kind of listening arrangement, but we - did not discuss our troubles. We were both “on the - small book,” which meant incommunicado, but I - promised a trusty prisoner a dollar if he would get word out - to an attorney I had in mind. He was one of the - leading criminal lawyers at that time, and had us both out - to talk to him the next morning. The evening papers - carried the story of my arrest and of the burglary. - The attorney had read it, and seeing it was a case of - considerable magnitude he came at once. He did not - believe in any fat fees being held incommunicado.</p> - - <p>I gave him a substantial retainer and asked him to - find out what we were charged with and what we were - being held on. Spokane had got barely an hour’s sleep - at one time in the three days he had been in. - Policemen and detectives took turn about questioning him, - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">[342]</span>trying to wear him down to the weakening point. They - now started on me, threatening, blustering, cajoling, - wheedling, and promising. I made no statement except - that I was innocent. There was no local interest in the - case, and we were not mistreated. Captain - Lindheimer, long dead now, was in charge of the city - prison. He frowned on the beating-up of prisoners, - and there was very little of it done when he was in - charge. He was a very humane man, and of all the - prisoners that passed through his hands I don’t recall - ever hearing one with a harsh word for him.</p> - - <p>Our attorney had influence enough to get our meals - sent from the outside; we bought clean, new blankets - from the head trusty and plenty of opium, which we - ate. Spokane’s wife was permitted to visit us, the - police probably figuring they could follow her to - something that would convict us. She had not - been told anything, knew nothing, and could do us - no harm.</p> - - <p>Out of my thousand dollars I got in with, I saw to it - that she was taken care of. This was only fair to - Spokane, and helped him to help me by keeping his mouth - shut.</p> - - <p>The attorney could learn nothing except that we - were being held on telegrams. “This is soft,” he said. - “They can’t hold you on that. I’ll take you out on a - writ of habeas corpus.”</p> - - <p>The next morning we went into court on the writ. - The court gave the police twenty-four hours to get - something more substantial than telegrams, - threatening to liberate us if they failed. When we appeared - the next day they had nothing except more telegrams, - and we were discharged from custody.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">[343]</span>I grabbed the attorney’s hand. “Don’t get excited,” - he said, “they’re not done with you yet.”</p> - - <p>Although the judge released us we were promptly - rearrested at the courtroom door and put in our cell. - The attorney applied for another writ. This was - granted and we went to court again the next day, but - were put over twenty-four hours on the plea of the - police that witnesses were on their way from Canada. - No witnesses appeared, and we were discharged only - to be arrested again. The court warned the police - that they would be in contempt if we were held longer - without evidence.</p> - - <p>On our next day in court we were confronted by the - chief of provincial detectives from Victoria with a - warrant of extradition and a day was set for him to make - his showing. One night a strange attorney came to me - in the prison, told me he had had a talk with the judge, - and that for a sum of money he would point out a flaw - in the case that would upset the extradition plea. I - sent for my attorney and asked his advice. He - investigated, and told me to put up the money.</p> - - <p>When we went into court the Canadian officer - produced his warrant. It was the biggest document I - ever saw—a piece of parchment about three feet long, - embossed, engraved, and signed and sealed with the - seal of Queen Victoria—a formal demand from the - British Government on the Secretary of State to deliver - us over to the Canadian authorities. He had it in a - bag carefully rolled and wrapped in paper. Taking it - out carefully, reverently, he placed it in the judge’s - hands.</p> - - <p>“Where did you get this document?” the court - asked.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_344">[344]</span>“From Ottawa, the capital of Canada,” the officer - answered.</p> - - <p>“Did you go to Ottawa yourself for it?”</p> - - <p>“No, it came to Victoria by mail.”</p> - - <p>Looking at it closely the judge pointed to a name - signed at the bottom. “What’s this?” he asked.</p> - - <p>“That is the signature of Lord Aberdeen, governor - general of Canada.”</p> - - <p>“Did you see him sign it?”</p> - - <p>“No.”</p> - - <p>“Hm,” said the judge, laying it down.</p> - - <p>Our lawyer picked it up and appeared to read it - carefully. Turning to the officer, he asked: “How do - you know that is Lord Aberdeen’s signature? Were - you there when he signed it? Did you ever see him - sign his name to any paper? Did you ever see Lord - Aberdeen? What’s this thing?” He tapped the seal, - the big red seal half as large as your hand.</p> - - <p>“That is the seal of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria - of England,” the man answered, getting indignant and - red in the face.</p> - - <p>“Oh, it is, is it? How do you know it is? Did you - see her put it there? Is she here to identify it? There’s - no Victoria here in this court, is there? This might be - the seal of Jane Doe, a waitress. Anybody can have a - seal. Do you think the court is going to recognize this - thing? You’ll have to come in here with something - better than that,” he said, throwing it on the floor and - kicking it under a table.</p> - - <p>The officer got down from the witness stand, picked - it up, brushed it off, and carefully put it away.</p> - - <p>The judge then said: “This court cannot recognize - that as a valid document. You come here with a paper - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_345">[345]</span>demanding custody of these defendants, but we have - here no proof that it is genuine. It might be a forgery. - We know there is such a person as Lord Aberdeen, of - Canada, but we have no proof that his signature is on - that warrant. I cannot hold defendants on such - evidence.”</p> - - <p>We were discharged again. I don’t know where the - money went that I gave the lawyer who sold us the - point that beat the extradition; I know the judge didn’t - give us any the worst of it.</p> - - <p>We were arrested again at the door. That night we - were indicted by the grand jury; I for bringing stolen - property into the state of California, and Spokane for - receiving it from me. The police saw we were framing - and using money, so they, rather than be beaten, began - framing us. Our cases were transferred into another - court where they could do some fixing, and we couldn’t. - The indictments meant that we would have to wait for - trial. I began to get uneasy about the stones I had in - the safety box. The police were tearing the town open - for them, not knowing that nearly all of them had been - sold. I told our lawyer where to get the key to the - box, gave him a password, and told him to take the - junk out and put it in some safe place. The police - “tailed” every visitor we had and even the lawyer in - hopes of locating the stones, and he had to be careful.</p> - - <p>Making another application for a writ of habeas - corpus, which he knew would not avail us, he had the - hearing set for ten o’clock in the morning. This - alarmed the coppers and every one of them was at the - courtroom when the case was called. Everybody was - there but our attorney. The hearing was held up for - fifteen minutes. During this fifteen minutes he was at - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_346">[346]</span>the safety vault lifting the plant, while every detective - on the case was waiting in court. He came in, nodded - to us, apologized to the court, and went on with the - case with the parcel of loot in his pocket. The writ - was denied, of course. I told him to put the stuff - away, and he did.</p> - - <p>When I asked him about it later, he looked me - straight in the eye and said: “Did you think I was - damn fool enough to keep that stuff around me? Say, - when court adjourned that day I went straight down - to the foot of Powell Street and threw it in the bay.”</p> - - <p>This didn’t look just right to me, but what could I - do? I was only a poor, honest burglar in the hands - of a highway lawyer. He got us a copy of the - testimony given the grand jury, and from it I learned - what had caused our arrest—Spokane’s passion for - gambling.</p> - - <p>After lifting the watches and rings in the little - Northern town, he tried his luck at the faro table and - lost his expense money. This forced him to open the - parcel and sell a couple of the watches to a gambler - for enough money to buy his return ticket. The next - day the gambler took them to the town where I stole - them, fifteen miles away, across the line, and tried to - pawn them. He was arrested and told where he got - them. In an hour the police learned about the express - package of “sample ore” Spokane shipped. It was - seized en route to San Francisco. There was a big - reward for the burglar, and the Northern police, - wanting it, decided to capture him. Instead of wiring to - have him arrested the first time he went to the express - office, they hurried here and got him themselves.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_347">[347]</span>Spokane was repentant, but it was too late. I did - not reproach him.</p> - - <p>His wife was faithful, and devoted to him, and - visited us daily at the prison, bringing papers and small - delicacies. One evening, while we were chatting on a - bench in the visiting room, an officer came and took - him out to another room. Several policemen were - standing around, and there seemed to be something - stagy going on that I couldn’t understand. Suddenly, - as I sat talking to Mrs. Spokane, a screen at the other - side of the room was knocked aside and Irish Annie - dashed from behind it, heaping abuse on me and trying - to get her hands on my friend’s wife.</p> - - <p>Annie’s furious appearance was like a thunderbolt - out of a clear sky. I saw instantly that she had been - poisoned against me. I tried to talk to her but she - wouldn’t listen, and the coppers stood between us - pushing me away to make her think I was trying to get my - hands on her and strangle her. Mrs. Spokane had - collapsed on the bench, almost fainting from fear and - wondering what it was about. Annie was led away - screaming threats. Spokane’s wife went home, and we - back to our cell where we tried to piece together this - unexpected angle.</p> - - <p>I saw the police were playing my game better than - I could. They knew I was trying to frame myself - out; they began framing me in, and with Irish Annie - they had a dangerous lead on me. It was plain to me - that they had told her she was discarded for another - woman; that they had called Spokane away to leave - me alone with his wife while Annie watched from - behind the screen. I could almost hear them saying to - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_348">[348]</span>her: “There you are. There’s the woman he left you - for. There’s the woman he hung his diamonds on, - and spends his money on. How he got her is a - mystery to us; she’s a decent woman. She’s crazy about - him and believes he is innocent.”</p> - - <p>Then Annie, too ready to believe herself “a woman - scorned,” turned copper on me, knocked the screen - away, and poured out the vials of her wrath. Still - I wasn’t much alarmed about the case and I couldn’t - help admiring the coppers for the way they tooled - Annie and chiseled her out of her right senses. They - assumed I was guilty; that gave them the right to - assume that she, being my companion, knew something - about the burglary. They were justified in getting it - out of her by fair or unfair means. I knew she was - ignorant of the least detail of it, and felt like laughing - at them for wasting time on their elaborate scheme.</p> - - <p>Our attorney made many efforts to see her, but the - police had her in a hotel under the eye of a matron, - and he and his runners failed.</p> - - <p>At last he subpœnaed her as our witness and had her - brought to his office. All his eloquence got nothing - out of her. She was mute and stayed mute till the day - of my trial. She had not been before the grand jury. - We had no police-court examination and there was no - way of finding out what she was going to say till she - went into court. The attorney was apprehensive. I - wasn’t. I told him of the night I first met her - shivering in a Chicago doorway, of the warm clothing I got - for her, and of the night I staggered out of her crib - with the dead man over my shoulder. I told him in - detail of our meeting in the North by chance, and of - our relations there. He was old and wise. He shook - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_349">[349]</span>his head thoughtfully and quoted the poet’s line about - scorned women and their hellish fury.</p> - - <p>The prosecution clamored for a speedy trial of the - case. Almost ten thousand dollars had been spent by - the Canadian authorities in retaining a firm of - high-priced lawyers to prosecute; in transporting witnesses - and paying hotel and other bills, and for private - detectives hired to spy on the local police. Still no - diamonds showed up. Spokane was offered a job with - the Pinkerton Detective Agency if he would turn on - me. I was promised my liberty if I would turn up the - stones. We kept up our cry of innocence and made - no statements at any time. A week before the day set - for my trial, our attorney was stricken in his study and - died in his chair, of heart failure.</p> - - <p>We had to get another lawyer and pay another stiff - fee. I went over the case with him, but somehow was - unable to convince him that I had not talked too much - to Irish Annie.</p> - - <p>At my trial she swore, and she wasn’t - mealy-mouthed about it, either, that I told her of the - burglary when I was planning it; that I offered her part - of the stones when I got them; that she was afraid to - take them because they were stolen. She added that - she would have notified the police then, but was afraid - I would kill her or have her killed. On - cross-examination she said she was not testifying in hope of a reward - or in revenge; that she was glad to be rid of me, and - hoped I would be sentenced to life so I couldn’t get out - and murder her.</p> - - <p>The next witness was a pawnbroker the police dug - up. Spokane had sold him a piece of jewelry. It was - identified by the loser and put in evidence. The witness - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_350">[350]</span>identified me as the one who sold it to him and - produced his book showing a fictitious name Spokane had - signed. I got alarmed and protested loudly. Spokane, - who was in court, jumped up and cried out to the - judge that he pawned the article. The court ordered - him to sit down, and my lawyer told him if he testified - to that, he would be convicted on his own statement of - receiving it from me, when his trial came on. Our - attorney tried to get a sample of my handwriting - before the jury. The prosecutors objected, and the - judge ruled that no exemplars could be admitted in - evidence unless they were written before the burglary - was committed. I could not dig up any that old, and - the case went to the jury with no defense except my - sworn denial of guilt.</p> - - <p>When the jury disappeared in their room and court - was adjourned, I lit a cigarette. Before I had half - finished, the jury was back with their verdict, “Guilty, - as charged.”</p> - - <p>Spokane’s trial was set, but I made affidavit that he - was an innocent tool in the matter, and he was - dismissed. He worried himself sick because of his - carelessness in getting me arrested and in a few months - fell a victim of tuberculosis. His devoted wife - contracted it in nursing him and long before I was at - liberty they were both dead and buried.</p> - - <p>In due time I was sentenced to eight years at - Folsom. The case went on appeal to the supreme court - and I settled down for a long wait in the old Broadway - county jail. My case gave me food for much - interesting thought. I was guilty. Justice had overtaken me. - But let us see how justice fared. It seemed to me that - the blind goddess got a tough deal herself. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_351">[351]</span>Everybody connected with the case outraged her. The first - judge took money. The coppers framed me in. The - witnesses perjured themselves. The second judge was - so feloniously righteous that he stood in with the - framing. My lawyer was a receiver of stolen - goods—even stole some from me. And the police told me that - the Jewelers’ Association beat them out of the reward.</p> - - <p>That’s one side of the case; here’s another. The - jeweler was bankrupt. The Canadian authorities spent - ten thousand dollars. The state of California had to - feed and clothe me while I was in prison.</p> - - <p>Here’s another side of it. Spokane and his wife - died of T.B. that he contracted while in jail; and - “justice” overtook Irish Annie for what she had done - to me.</p> - - <p>Not very pleasant reflections; especially when I had - to admit to myself that I was the cause of everything - from the burglary to the punishment of Annie, and all - that happened in between them. Yet this burglary is - by no means unique. It frequently happens that the - initial loss in dollars and cents is as nothing compared - to the wrong and injury that radiate from such crimes - like ripples on a pond.</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXIII</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">My</span> first few months in the county jail were put in - hard enough. About all I did was hate Irish Annie, and - plan ways and means to revenge myself on her. I kept - close track of her through friends and learned that her - punishment began the day she got back to Canada. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_352">[352]</span>Her girls left her establishment when they saw her - turn copper; her friends in the Tenderloin shunned - her as if she had the leprosy. Finding herself cast - out by these outcasts, she gathered up what she could - and joined the gold rush to Alaska.</p> - - <p>Then, just when my bankroll had melted away under - the heavy expense of two attorneys’ fees and - incidentals, and I was beginning to wonder if I would finish - by having to eat the jail fare, a number of mysterious - money orders came to me from Nome and Skagway. - I couldn’t but think this was conscience money from - Annie. This took the edge off my hatred and I began - making excuses for her. After I had several hundred - dollars, the money orders stopped coming. No letter - or explanation came, and I remained mystified. At - last a prisoner who was brought into the jail en route - to San Quentin from Alaska put an end to my guessing.</p> - - <p>Irish Annie was dead. My informant was very - discreet and mentioned no names. “Certain people,” - he said, “and good people, too, found out that she had - a bunch of dough. They went into her crib, tied her - up, and took it. When they went out, one of them - said to the others: ‘Black is in the county jail in San - Francisco. He ought to have one end of this money. - That woman put him there.’</p> - - <p>“They didn’t know she had snitched on you and - objected to splitting you in with the coin. The first - party, your friend, went back into the crib, and croaked - her. When he came out he said: ‘I’ve done that for - Black. Now, does he get his end?’</p> - - <p>“You got it, didn’t you?”</p> - - <p>I acknowledged the money and asked no questions. - My attorney learned later, and told me, that when she - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_353">[353]</span>was found dead and her body identified, the police - began a search for me, and the only thing that saved - me was my jail alibi, the only alibi that ever convinced - anybody.</p> - - <p>With Annie off my mind I then began hating the - pawnbroker. But before I went to Folsom he was - charged with perjury in another case and went broke - saving himself from a prison sentence, and I put him - out of my mind.</p> - - <p>I didn’t worry about the coppers framing me in. I - started it. It was their business to put me away if they - could, and if they hadn’t played my game I would - have beaten the case on them. It has always been a - question with me where this framing and jobbing - started; whether the defense originally began it and - forced the prosecutor and police to do it in self-defense, - or whether it was the other way around. I never - could find the answer; long ago I gave it up and filed - it away with that other old question about the hen and - the egg.</p> - - <p>My attorney knew his business. He held me in the - county jail till my last dollar was gone, and I refused - to “write for more money” as he suggested. When I - was leaving for Folsom he showed up at the jail and - asked me for my watch, the only thing of value I had - left.</p> - - <p>“You won’t have any use for it up there,” he said. - “Give it to me and I’ll get you a job in the warden’s - where you’ll get something to eat.”</p> - - <p>I told him to go plumb to hell.</p> - - <p>I went to prison without any plans for the future. - With good conduct I would have to do five years and - four months and there was no use trying to look that - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_354">[354]</span>far ahead. Two other prisoners arrived the morning - I did, and the three of us were taken out to the office to - have our prison biographies written—name, age, - birthplace, occupation, etc. We were then photographed, - measured, and weighed, and turned over to the captain - to be assigned to work.</p> - - <p>Richard Murphy (“Dirty Dick” the “cons” called - him) was captain at that time. He had worked his - way up from the guard line by cunning and brutality. - He believed in “throwing the fear of God” into a - prisoner the minute he arrived, by browbeating and - bullying him, and every man went out of his office - hating him. It’s more than twenty years since I left - Folsom, but I can still see Dirty Dick’s short, squat - figure on the flagstones in front of his filthy office. I - can still see his pop-eyes and pasty face, his frog belly, - his knock knees, and his flat feet.</p> - - <p>I was the first to be questioned. “Where are you - from?” he asked.</p> - - <p>“San Francisco,” I replied.</p> - - <p>“How long did you do in San Quentin?”</p> - - <p>“Never was in San Quentin.”</p> - - <p>“What other penitentiary were you in?”</p> - - <p>“Never was in any penitentiary,” I lied, and I knew - he knew I was lying, but wouldn’t give him the - satisfaction of thinking he had bullied me into telling the - truth.</p> - - <p>“Hah, you’re a liar, and you know it. You can’t get - anything like that by me. I’ll dig you up, and find out - all about you. Use hop?”</p> - - <p>“No.” I did use hop, had eaten it all the time in the - county jail, and had a small portion secreted about me - then. He again called me a liar and said to a convict - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_355">[355]</span>runner: “Here, Shorty, take this fellow to the - stoneyard. Search him, and if you find anything you want, - keep it.”</p> - - <p>I had already been searched and had nothing but a - handkerchief and a pipe. “No prisoner will keep - anything belonging to me,” I said, looking at Shorty. He - didn’t search me.</p> - - <p>The captain called up the second man. “Where are - you from?”</p> - - <p>“Sacramento,” he answered.</p> - - <p>“How long do you bring?”</p> - - <p>“Ten years.”</p> - - <p>“What for?”</p> - - <p>“Grand larceny.”</p> - - <p>“What kind of grand larceny?”</p> - - <p>The little runner, Shorty, stepped up and said: - “Pickpocket, captain.”</p> - - <p>“Where do you belong?” Murphy continued.</p> - - <p>“Chicago.”</p> - - <p>“What’s your name?”</p> - - <p>“James Brown.”</p> - - <p>“You’re from Chicago, eh? And your name is - Brown? What do they call you? What’s your - monoger?”</p> - - <p>The little runner stepped up again and said: “‘Chi - Jimmy,’ captain.”</p> - - <p>“Chi Jimmy, eh? Pickpocket, eh? The rock - crusher for you,” said the captain. “Maybe you’ll be ‘Chi’ - a few fingers before you get out.”</p> - - <p>Which he probably would be. This was Murphy’s - idea of a joke.</p> - - <p>The third chap got about the same deal, and was - waved away. “To the crusher with him, too.”</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_356">[356]</span>At that time prisoners were allowed, for economy, - to keep the coats, vests, and hats they brought in with - them, but were made to wear striped pants and shirts. - As the last man turned away, Murphy saw he had a - good hat. Calling him back he took it and threw it - to his runner. “Here’s a hat for you, Shorty. If you - can’t wear it give it to somebody else; it’s too good - for the rock crusher.”</p> - - <p>He knew all about us before we were brought to his - office, and had us out there only to “throw the fear” - into us and get a line on us by the way we answered his - questions. He made three enemies right there. He - received all prisoners that way and if they got insolent - under his badgering he had them thrown into the - dungeon for thirty days “to cool off.”</p> - - <p>The dungeon was an empty cell with a solid door - to darken it and contained nothing but a thin blanket, - and a bucket strong with chloride of lime. In cases - of this kind the captain signed the punishment order - which included bread and water. Every third day the - prisoner got a pan of beans. Most of them were so - hungry they bolted the beans without stopping to chew - them and a few dungeon sentences brought on stomach - troubles that added to their misery.</p> - - <p>My eight-year sentence was considered a short one - at Folsom. I found nine hundred prisoners there - whose sentences averaged twelve years. They were - all hopeless. The parole law was a dead letter, - inoperative. Only at Christmas or on the Fourth of July - did any one get a parole. The place was a seething - volcano of hatred and suspicion. Dirty Dick had in - the twenty years he was there developed a perfect - stool-pigeon system. A visiting warden, surprised - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_357">[357]</span>because there was no wall around Folsom, asked - Murphy how he managed to keep the “cons” there. “That’s - simple,” he said. “I’ve got one half of them watching - the other half.” His system caused many murders and - assaults and at last it climaxed in the bloodiest prison - break in the history of California.</p> - - <p>Opium was the medium of exchange in the prison. - About three hundred men used it habitually and a - hundred more, occasionally. Incoming prisoners - smuggled money in and we bribed the poorly paid guards to - buy hop at Sacramento. No prisoner was allowed to - buy anything through the office. The trusties stole - every movable article they could from the guards’ and - warden’s quarters and peddled them to us in the prison - for their rations of hop. The “cons” were divided - roughly into three groups. One group played the - officers’ game, working in the offices or holding down - other soft jobs where they could loaf about the place - and spy and snitch on the others. Murphy rewarded - them all. He gave the best snitches the biggest - beefsteaks. Another and larger group openly antagonized - the officers, engineering hop deals, planning the - murder of stool pigeons, and promoting escapes.</p> - - <p>Between these two groups was a small bunch of - convicts who did not handle hop or curry favor with the - officers. They were the best conducted prisoners there, - yet they were ground to pieces by the two stronger - factions. They got fag ends of food in the convict mess - and wore the patched-up clothes of the others.</p> - - <p>I had some thought of getting off the hop when I got - to Folsom and of keeping my nose clean and trying to - shorten my time by making a parole. But I saw quickly - all that was impossible for me and that I would be - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_358">[358]</span>lucky if I earned my credits. I joined the schemers and - soon had my share of the opium which meant power - and influence. We sold the hop to those who had - money and with the money we bought more. Also we - paid guards to smuggle in sugar, butter, and other - food.</p> - - <p>Conditions at San Quentin were the same. Martin - Aguirre became warden there under Governor Gage. - Aguirre introduced the strait-jacket punishment and I - have been told he did it on the suggestion of a convict. - This brutal and inhuman form of torture had been - condemned in English prisons years before as - dangerous to life and limb. Yet this man was permitted to - revive it in California and its use was continued until - Hiram Johnson became governor.</p> - - <p>Let it be said to this humane and enlightened - gentleman’s everlasting credit that one of his first official - acts was to banish the jacket and other brutalities from - California prisons forever. Captain Murphy - welcomed the jacket as something superior to anything he - had at Folsom in the way of punishment. Up to that - time the prisoners were “regulated” by long terms in - the dungeons on bread and water, loss of credits, or by - hanging them up by the wrists till they were on tiptoe. - When Dirty Dick saw what could be done with the - jacket he came into the stoneyard and declared himself - openly, “I’ve got something now that will make you - tough birds snitch on yourselves.”</p> - - <p>The killing and maiming of convicts in the - strait-jackets are matters of record and too well known to - call for any notice in this story. At Folsom I saw the - jacket making beasts of the convicts and brutes of their - keepers. I saw Jakey Oppenheimer transformed from - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_359">[359]</span>a well-intentioned prisoner into a murder maniac whose - wanton killings and assaults in prison brought him - “under the rope” in the end. I saw the convicts throw - their hats in the air and shout for joy when Warden - Charles Aull died.</p> - - <p>Thomas Wilkinson followed him as warden.</p> - - <p>The tasks were increased, the food rations cut, and - even the convict stripes were made thinner and cheaper. - These abuses, coupled with brutal strait-jacketings for - the slightest infraction of rules, crystallized all the - hatred, despair, and hopelessness in the prison. All - the convicts needed was an organizer, a leader. He - appeared in the person of Dick Gordon. With a - sentence of forty-five years and a prior prison experience, - Gordon saw no chance of getting out on the square - and began planning to escape. He was - young—about twenty-three—modest, kindly, intelligent. He - came to Folsom with a reputation for doing things on - the outside and for being on the square. With great - care and diplomacy he sorted out a dozen men and his - plan was laid down for the getaway. It was simple - and direct. Every Monday morning there were at - least a dozen officers and guards at the prison office.</p> - - <p>The warden was always there to get everything - under way; the captain to try all prisoners for offenses - committed between Saturday evening and Monday - morning; the overseer to plan the week’s work; the - commissary to give out clothing, and the turnkey to - listen to requests for changing of cells. This meant - there were always thirty or forty prisoners at the office.</p> - - <p>The plan was for Gordon and his men to mingle - with others at the captain’s office. When the signal - was given they were to rush the officers, who were - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_360">[360]</span>unarmed, put a knife at the throat of every one, and - march them all out through the guard line, using them - as shields against the gatling-gun fire from guard - towers that encircled the prison. For once Captain - Murphy’s carefully built-up system of spying failed - him; it toppled on him, crushed him, and brought about - his dismissal from the prison.</p> - - <p>His spies, when things were dull, often fabricated - plots and stories to hold their jobs. Sunday, before - the break, they reported to Murphy that something - was brewing in the prison. He ordered fifty suspected - men searched but nothing was found. The knives - Gordon and his men were to use were being carried - about by a “harmless” short-time convict, who kept by - himself and was not suspected.</p> - - <p>Murphy, finding nothing wrong after the search, put - the reports down to over-zealousness by his stool - pigeons and forgot them.</p> - - <p>The next morning the knives were distributed and - the dozen men dropped out of the line at the captain’s - office as the men went out to work. Every officer in - the prison except the doctor was captured.</p> - - <p>The only guard that resisted was killed instantly, - cut to pieces. The only officer that resisted was - Cochrane, the turnkey, the man who personally laced - up the strait-jacket victims. He was hated bitterly and - every man that got near enough put a knife into him. - He was cut a dozen times and left for dead. He - recovered, and later took his grudge out by brutalities - to prisoners who had never harmed him.</p> - - <p>Gordon and his men marched their captives to the - prison armory. Under threat of death the warden - ordered the guard in charge to open it. Taking all the - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_361">[361]</span>arms and ammunition they could carry they destroyed - the balance and still using the officers as shields - marched them off the prison grounds and into the - woods. Here some of the escapes demanded Dirty - Dick’s life for the things he had done to them, but - Gordon had his way. “No murder” was his order - and he enforced it. At sundown the captives were - released. The escapes scattered. Gordon went his - way alone and, though hunted for years, was never - taken.</p> - - <p>Five others of the twelve are still at liberty. The - other six were captured here and there. Three of them - were hanged, and the remaining three sentenced to life - imprisonment, paroled after many years, and are living - within the law.</p> - - <p>When things cooled down the people of California - wanted to know how men could be driven to such - desperation that they captured and cut down officers and - guards, rushed and took a gatling-gun tower with - nothing but crude knives made in the prison blacksmith - shop. This bloody affair called attention to the - terrible conditions and proved the beginning of the end - of prison cruelty in California.</p> - - <p>After the break Folsom was a hell. The warden - and Captain Murphy began taking revenge on friends - of the escapes. We were brought into the office and - questioned. I answered all questions respectfully, - disclaimed any knowledge of the break, and avoided - punishment at that time. Warden Wilkinson was removed - and Archibald Yell of Sacramento took his place. He - had no experience and was forced to feel his way - slowly. He had to depend on Murphy. This put him - in virtual control of the convicts and his lust for - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_362">[362]</span>revenge went unchecked. I was on his list and he soon - got me. I had but three months to serve when I was - slated for the strait-jacket. I knew the captain wanted - to get my credits, which amounted to two years and - eight months. Murphy had me brought into his office, - where he said he had information that I was holding - opium. If I had admitted this they could have taken - away my entire good time. I denied it.</p> - - <p>“Take him to the doctor,” the captain ordered. - That meant I was to be examined as to my physical - condition before they put me in the jacket. This - worried me; I was not sure whether I would snitch on - myself and give up the hop. Some stanch men had - weakened in the jacket. I thought I could stick it out - and made up my mind to. I had been flogged and - starved and third-degreed before going to Folsom and - had taken them all with a grin, but I was not sure of - myself in the jacket. Many prisoners claimed they - gave up information on themselves and friends while - delirious or semiconscious in the jacket, and that was - what alarmed me. I preferred death to the loss of - my credits.</p> - - <p>While waiting for the doctor I got word to a friend - who was holding my hop to throw it in the canal at - once. In this way I figured I was protecting my credits - even from myself. The doctor OK-ed me and I was - taken into the dungeon, where Cochrane, now - recovered from his terrible wounds, was waiting with the - jacket. I saw it was a piece of heavy canvas about four - feet long and wide enough to go around a man’s body. - There were long pockets sewed to the inner side of it - into which my arms were thrust. I was then thrown - on the floor face down and the jacket was laced up the - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_363">[363]</span>back. The edges of the jacket were fitted with - eyeholes and the thing was tightened up with a soft, stout - rope just as a lady’s shoe is laced. It can be drawn - tight enough to stop the circulation of blood, or the - breath.</p> - - <p>While Cochrane was tightening the jacket he said: - “You fellows tried to kill me; now it’s my time.” When - he had me squeezed tight enough he turned me over on - my back and went to the cell door. “When you’re - ready to snitch on yourself, Blacky, just sing out,” he - said as he locked me in.</p> - - <p>I will not harrow the reader with a description of - the torture. The jacket is no longer in use and no - purpose would be served by living over those three days - in the “bag.” Every hour Cochrane came in and asked - if I was ready to give up the hop. When I denied - having it, he tightened me up some more and went - away. The torture became maddening. Some time - during the second day I rolled over to the wall and - beat my forehead against it trying to knock myself - “out.” Cochrane came in, saw what I was doing, and - dragged me back to the middle of the cell. I hadn’t - strength enough left to roll back to the wall, so I stayed - there and suffered. A guard looked in and there was - real sympathy in his voice. He said: “Why don’t you - scream, make a noise? They might let you out; they - don’t want to kill anybody any more.” I didn’t want - my friends to hear me screaming; I kept still. It - wouldn’t have done any good, anyway.</p> - - <p>On the evening of the second day the doctor came - and felt the pulse in my temple. He then ordered me - taken out for the night. They took the thing off and I - collapsed in one corner. There was a wooden cup of - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_364">[364]</span>water on the cell floor and I took a small mouthful - only, because it would make the jacket so much worse - when I was put back in it. My fear of snitching was - gone now. The very ferocity of the punishment had - made me a wild beast.</p> - - <p>I crawled around the cell looking for something I - could use to open a vein or artery; I wanted to die. All - I found was my shoes. I tried to dig a nail out of one - of the heels, but only broke my finger nails. At last - I loosened one of the small metal eyes where the shoe - is laced and with the heel of my shoe beat it out flat - on the cement floor. After rubbing the metal on the - floor for an hour I got an edge on it sharp enough to - open the skin but it would not cut the vein. Every - time I touched the vein it jumped out from under my - crude blade. The sensation was something like - touching a live wire, like an electric shock. Finally I gave - it up and lay down to wait for morning.</p> - - <p>I had an opium habit, but suffered so from the jacket - that I forgot all about the hop—another proof to me - that the habit is mostly mental.</p> - - <p>Cochrane came at eight o’clock the next morning. - I denied having hop and out came the jacket. All that - day I was only half conscious, dopey. I don’t think - I suffered as much as on the previous day. Some - time in the night they released me, and I lay on the - floor in a stupor. I don’t know how long. Toward - morning my mind cleared and I felt that another day - would finish me. I decided I would send for Captain - Murphy after they put me back in the jacket and ask - him to take me down to the bank of the canal where - I worked so I could dig up the hop from its plant and - give it to him. I was liked by the “cons” and knew - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_365">[365]</span>he would go with me personally, so my friends could - see him triumphing over me. At the canal, instead of - giving him hop I intended to throw my arms around - him and drag him to the bottom, where we would both - “cease from troubling.”</p> - - <p>The fourth morning Cochrane said: “You’re a damn - fool; better give up your hop. You can’t finish out the - day.” I waited for him to put me in. He held up the - “bag” in front of me. I was sitting on the floor. “Get - up,” he said. I didn’t; I couldn’t; I was too weak. - With a gesture of disgust he threw the jacket out the - door into the corridor. Motioning to a couple of - trusty prisoners, he said: “Take him away.” They - helped me to my cell and into my bunk. I lay there - half dead, but victorious. My cellmate came at noon - and slipped me a jolt of hop. I took it and felt better. - He had not even thrown it away as I asked. “I knew - you wouldn’t squawk,” he said, “so I held on to it.”</p> - - <p>My three months passed quickly enough and I was - released, still feeling the effects of the jacket. When - I got out I held up my hand and swore I would never - make another friend or do another decent thing. I - borrowed a gun and got money. I returned to Folsom - by stealth and flooded the place with hop. I went - about the country for months with but one thing in my - mind, a sort of vicious hatred of everybody and - everything. As much as possible I shunned even my own - kind—thieves.</p> - - <p>Then back to San Francisco again where I fell into - a stool-pigeon trap. Captain “Steve” Bunner, who - now chases policemen, was then a very plain, - plain-clothes “dick,” chasing burglars and stick-ups. He - arrested me. He says I tried to shoot him but that he - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_366">[366]</span>bears me no malice. I say he got me a twenty-five - year sentence, and I bear him no malice; and to-day, - while we are not exactly bosom friends, we certainly - are not enemies. I had no money to take an appeal - from this stiff sentence, but an attorney came and - volunteered his services, saying: “I was in the district - attorney’s office when you were sent to Folsom and I - know you got jobbed. I’ll take your case for nothing.”</p> - - <p>While waiting on appeal the great earthquake - and fire occurred. All the records in my case were - destroyed. I could not be sent to prison, and the - attorney could not get me out, so I became a permanent - fixture in the county jail.</p> - - <p>The old Broadway county jail was a stout structure - and resisted the quake, but was fire-swept and - abandoned. When the fire threatened, all prisoners were - removed to Alcatraz Island and later to the branch - jail at Ingleside. I was there over six years and the - things that happened there during that time would - fill a book.</p> - - <p>During the graft prosecution that followed the fire, - Ingleside housed the mayor, the political boss of San - Francisco, and many of the supervisors. A looting - banker was there, many strikebreakers indicted for the - murder of union men during the car strike, and - soldiers for wantonly shooting down citizens while the - city burned. Jack Johnson, the colored heavyweight - champion, was with us for thirty days for speeding.</p> - - <p>Money was plentiful in the jail. The grocer came - every day, and we all got enough to eat. The political - boss bought many books and founded a library. He - also got a big phonograph that was kept going all day - and far into the night. I was “appointed” jail - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_367">[367]</span>librarian, and at once catalogued the books and installed - them in an empty cell.</p> - - <p>The jail was a cross between a political headquarters - and an industrial plant. The political prisoners did - politics, and the prisoners whose records were burned - in the fire turned to industry.</p> - - <p>We got contracts to address envelopes and sublet - the work to others. We sewed beads on “genuine” - Indian moccasins for a concern downtown. Best of - all, we bought cheap jewelry from mail-order houses - and sold it at a profit to visitors, giving them to - understand that it was stolen stuff we had smuggled in - with us.</p> - - <p>One by one, those whose records were destroyed - by the fire made application to have them restored in - order to perfect their appeals. In the reconstruction - of those records they lost their valuable points on - appeal and one by one they were turned down by the - higher court. I made no move, but decided to stay - in the jail rather than go back to Folsom, although - conditions there had been greatly improved by Warden - Yell, who soon put Captain Murphy out and won the - confidence of the convicts by treating them on the - square.</p> - - <p>At last a visiting grand-jury committee reported to - the district attorney that there was a prisoner at - Ingleside whose case had been pending more than six years, - and recommended that something be done with it. He - at once put me on the docket for restoration of records.</p> - - <p>My attorney had retired, and with money I had - saved from work and speculations in jail I got a new - lawyer. I had all the criminal lawyers in San - Francisco doped out like race horses by this time, and my - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_368">[368]</span>choice was Sam Newburgh. I had seen him beat some - of the toughest cases that ever went to trial. Not only - that, I had seen him go down in his pocket and give - clients money after he got them out. He never - weakened, never lay down, or ran out on a man—money - or no money.</p> - - <p>Newburgh at once threw down a most formidable - barrage of objections and technicalities. The - prosecution got busy and, as usual, the defendant was lost - sight of in the smoke of battle. I had little hope of - actually beating the case; the best I could expect was - a new trial and maybe a sentence I could do instead - of one that would do me.</p> - - <p>But while my affairs were at this stage a new hope - appeared. I had made a few new outside friends by - this time. One of them especially, a fine, noble - woman, who was interested in helping us all, - concerned herself to do what she could for me.</p> - - <p>About this time Fremont Older, now editor of - <em>The Call</em>, had helped the late Donald Lowrie, whose - writings did for American prisons what John Howard’s - did for those of England.</p> - - <p>This woman, who was one of Mr. Older’s friends, - wrote him and said:</p> - - <p>“By way of thanking you for helping Lowrie I am - going to give you another man to assist. He is John - Black, at the Ingleside jail. I wish you would see - him.”</p> - - <p>He called at the jail soon, but instead of having me - out to the office he came down to my cell, squeezed his - bulk through the doorway, and sat down on the edge - of my bunk. Waving the guard away, he produced - cigars, helped me to a light, and asked, in a voice that - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_369">[369]</span>rang to me like a twenty-dollar piece, what he could - do for me. For once all my mistrust, suspicion, and - hatred vanished.</p> - - <p>I said: “Mr. Older, I’m afraid you will waste a - lot of valuable time trying to do anything for me. - I have twenty-five years. I’m guilty. I’m plastered - over with prior convictions. The police hate me, the - jailers dislike me because I tried to escape, and the - trial judge is sore because I’ve done everything - possible to obstruct the judgment.”</p> - - <p>I told him I was a hop fiend, that I had used it - for ten years, and was still using it. I told him I was - tired of stealing and tired of living. I told him there - was but one thing I could say for myself. I had never - broken my word either to a thief or a policeman. I - told him if he did help me out I would give him my - word to quit stealing. He went away, saying: “This - looks pretty tough, but I will try.”</p> - - <p>He at once saw Judge Dunne, who sentenced me, - and suggested probation on the ground of my long - confinement and dangerous physical condition.</p> - - <p>Mr. Older was the powerful editor of a newspaper - and a long-time friend of the judge. He was stared - at as if he had gone mad, and his suggestion met with - a cold, flat, final turndown. He sent word to me that - the judge was adamant and nothing could be done. - I saw my case was tough indeed when he couldn’t help - me, and began planning a getaway.</p> - - <p>I will not say there is honor among thieves. But I - maintain that the thieves I knew had something that - served as a good substitute for honor. I thought over - all my thief friends and at last chose one and sent for - him. He got me saws, and I cut bars in my door.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_370">[370]</span>On a propitious night he cut the window bars. I - was too weak to pull myself up to the window, and - he had to reach in, lift me bodily, and drop me on - the ground outside.</p> - - <p>Strange as it may sound, the fresh, cool night air - had the same effect on me that the foul air of a sewer - would have on a healthy, normal human. It overcame - me. I was not able to walk at first, and my rescuer - had to support me on our way to the car line.</p> - - <p>Before daylight and before the escape was - discovered I was safely planted in a room in Oakland, where - I stayed and was nursed back to life, fed and protected - by my friend.</p> - - <p>After waiting for a couple of weeks for the hue and - cry to subside, he stowed me away in a sleeper one - night at Richmond on a northbound train with a ticket - to Vancouver, B.C.</p> - - <p>County constables and town whittlers beat up the - jungles, searched box cars and brakebeams; city dicks - explored the hop joints and hangouts for me and the - reward offered, but I traveled safely as a first-class - passenger on a first-class train.</p> - - <p>No police officer who knows his business would think - of looking in a Pullman sleeper or diner for a fugitive - hop fiend yegg with a twenty-five-year sentence - hanging on him.</p> - - <p>Arriving safely at Vancouver, I took stock and - found myself sick, weighing one hundred and ten - pounds, with a ferocious hop habit, about ten dollars, - and a big pistol—the gatherings of forty years.</p> - - <p>Then came a foggy night. Necessity and - Opportunity met, and I went away with a bundle of bank - notes and some certified checks. The checks went into - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_371">[371]</span>the first mail box as an apology from Necessity to - Opportunity.</p> - - <p>Then began the toughest battle of my life. Opium, - the Judas of drugs, that kisses and betrays, had a good - grip on me, and I prepared to break it. The last - words of my rescuer when he put me in the train rang - in my ears:</p> - - <p>“Good-by and good luck, Blacky. And you’d better - lay away from that hop or it’ll make a bum of you.”</p> - - <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - <div class="chapter"> - <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXIV</h2> - </div> - - <p><span class="smcap">I had</span> money enough to last some little time, long - enough to get my strength back, perhaps. I paid the - landlady a month’s rent and told her I was a sick man - and would be in my room all the time and not to - disturb me.</p> - - <p>In this way I hoped to account for never stirring - out of doors, which I did not dare do. I certainly was - a sick man, and looked it.</p> - - <p>This landlady was very good-hearted, and, - sympathizing with my illness, she did not leave me alone - two hours in succession. She sent a Chinese boy every - hour or two to see how I felt, and in the morning she - would send in coffee and toast and come in herself to - inquire how I was.</p> - - <p>After the boy had made the bed in the morning, - she must come in to see if he had turned the mattress - and shaken up the pillows for me. She was so busy - helping me out that she nearly landed me back in - jail.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_372">[372]</span>I came back to my room from the bathroom one - morning, and there she stood staring at a gun I had - been keeping under the mattress. She had insisted on - turning the mattress herself and found it. She was - standing there staring at it like she would at a - rattlesnake, and asked me what I was doing with that “awful - thing.”</p> - - <p>I sat down and said to her: “Mrs. Alexander, I - bought that pistol to kill myself with in case I get - physically disabled. You see, I’m a sick man. I told - you I was a sick man, and I have a suspicion I am a - consumptive. I don’t want to go to doctors and I’m - going to let this thing run its course, but if I find I am - down and out and done for I’m going to shoot myself. - That’s what I have it for.”</p> - - <p>She was all upset with sympathy. She said: “You’re - no consumptive. You are only run down. You’ll be - all right in a few months, with good food and care. - Let me keep this thing. I’ll take it and keep it. Don’t - get downhearted, you’ll be all right.”</p> - - <p>Of course I had to let her take it. That night I - went out and bought another one. I also bought a - bag and a few clothes, and I was careful after that to - lock the new pistol up in the bag when she was around.</p> - - <p>So I settled down to fight it out with my opium - habit, at the same time keeping on the watch all the - time for the police.</p> - - <p>I had been using opium steadily for ten years. For - ten years I had never gone to sleep without taking it. - I owed to it all the sleep, all the rest and forgetfulness - and contentment I had had in that time.</p> - - <p>Now I made up my mind to quit. Right away I - found I had to pay back every second of sleep, every - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_373">[373]</span>quiet, restful moment I had got from the opium in - the whole ten years.</p> - - <p>I was taking about five grains a day. I began to - taper down slowly. I cut off a grain a week at the - start, then for a couple of months I took only three - grains a day.</p> - - <p>It would have been a good deal harder to quit if - I hadn’t had that fear of the jail always before me. - That took my mind off the opium. The worst hold - the drug gets on a man is the mental hold. It becomes - a mental habit. A man has to keep a hard grip on - his mind; he has to want to quit, first, and keep - wanting to quit all the time, then he can do it.</p> - - <p>I could stick the daytime out. I found something - to do; I read, or ate, or walked around the room. I - did not dare go out in the daytime, for fear I would - be recognized by the police or by some stool pigeon. - This worry was always on my mind, and in a way it - helped, because while I was thinking of that I was - not thinking about the opium.</p> - - <p>It was the small, still hours of the night that got - me. I had to get some sleep and strength for the next - day. Every particle of opium I cut off my daily dose - cut off just that much sleep. For years in the jail I - had slept away all the time I could; I had slept ten - or twelve or fourteen hours a day. Now I had to pay - back all that sleep I had stolen from myself.</p> - - <p>I put in twenty-three hours a day waiting for the - twenty-fourth, when I could take my little jolt of hop. - Every day when the hour arrived I was tempted to - take one more good jolt, so that I could have a decent - night’s sleep and forget everything for a few hours.</p> - - <p>But the last words of my friend who had rescued - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_374">[374]</span>me were always in my ears. “Lay away from that - stuff. It will make a bum of you.”</p> - - <p>Hundreds of times it was just that memory that - tipped the balance, and I would take only what I had - allowed myself, no more. I believe now I quit because - he said that to me. I felt that if I could not do that - much, and it was the only thing he ever asked me to - do, I wasn’t worthy of the friendship of such a man - as he had shown himself to be.</p> - - <p>Then I would go to bed and try to sleep. After - several hours I would get up and go out for a walk, - to get some exercise. I would walk as fast as I could - for three or four hours in the darkness, always keeping - watch for a policeman or for any one who knew me.</p> - - <p>I would walk until I was tired out, because I was - still pretty weak, and it did not take much to tire me. - Then I would hope to sleep a little.</p> - - <p>But in the long, still hours my nerves demanded - opium. And I resisted and fought it out till my - strength got down to the vanishing point.</p> - - <p>Then I would get up and drench myself with whisky - and wash it down with absinth. My room looked like - a cross between a drug store and a distillery. I had - bottles of tonics, invalid’s port wine, whisky and - absinth.</p> - - <p>I would take a drink out of every bottle in the room - and fall down on the bed or on the floor in a stupor - and sleep for a few hours.</p> - - <p>In this manner I stuck it out. I took a small - portion of hop each evening, reducing it daily according - to the system I planned. Finally I got to the stage - where I could skip one day’s portion and get two hours’ - natural sleep.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_375">[375]</span>Then I tried skipping two days and got by with it, - but on the third day I was tied in a knot with cramps - and aches and nothing but hop would put me on my - feet.</p> - - <p>All this time Mrs. Alexander, my kindly landlady, - was urging me to go out in the sunshine during the - day. She said it would do me good to get more air, - and she could see no reason why I wouldn’t do it.</p> - - <p>So at last I went out one afternoon.</p> - - <p>I went to a little park where it was quiet and lay on - the grass. It was so good to touch and smell the - grass again that I couldn’t get enough of it. It seemed - to me that grass was the most beautiful thing in the - world. I felt as though I could eat it.</p> - - <p>I lay there in the sunshine and ran my hands through - it and pulled a blade or two and chewed it. - I had not been in the sunshine nor been able to - touch anything green and growing for over six years. - I wouldn’t have spoiled that lawn, put a - cigarette stub or an orange peel on it for anything in the - world.</p> - - <p>After that I went out three or four afternoons a - week and lay on that grass in the park. I could feel - that I was getting stronger, I could eat with good - appetite, and every night I decreased the opium - according to my schedule. I finally got the dose down to - an eighth of a grain.</p> - - <p>Even that amount, even the smallest particle that - I could get on the end of a toothpick, would make the - difference between sleeping all night or not.</p> - - <p>I don’t believe in those radical cures. It stands to - reason you can’t cure in three days a habit that it took - you five or ten years to build up. I think any man - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_376">[376]</span>can cure himself. He must first be cured mentally, - he must <em>want</em> to be cured. If he doesn’t want to be - cured, all the treatments in the world aren’t going to - do it. You can lock men in prisons and deprive them - of hop, and they will come right back and get it again - because they don’t want to be cured. But the man - who <em>wants</em> to quit can.</p> - - <p>It took me six months to get the dose down to - nothing. Even then for months more the thing might jump - out at me at any minute, like a wild beast and tear me - to pieces. I would go half crazy for the time, I would - be mad to get hold of some hop. But that would last - only a few hours, and every time I got through it safe - I knew it would be easier next time.</p> - - <p>Every minute I was out of the house in the daytime - I kept watching for people who knew me. A good - many men had been through Ingleside jail in the six - years I was there and Vancouver was full of them. - None of them ever saw me, because I saw them first. - I tried to see every man in the block ahead of me the - minute I stepped on the curb.</p> - - <p>Cured of the habit now, I went back “on the road,” - determined to stay in Canada, keep away from big - cities and wise coppers, and try to do the - twenty-five-year sentence outside instead of at Folsom. I traveled - east over the Canadian Pacific Railway to the - booming province of Alberta. One morning after an - all-night ride, I crawled out of a box car in the town of - Strathcona, tired, hungry, and dirty. I was not in - distress for money, and looked around for a quiet place - where I could lay off for a week and rest up. After - a breakfast, a bath, and a shave, I walked around a - while and located a quiet, respectable-looking place - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_377">[377]</span>with a “board and rooms” sign. It looked to be a - half-private, out-of-the-way place, so I went in.</p> - - <p>A Chinese boy was dusting up in the lounging room, - and I asked him for the “boss man.” He disappeared - out in the hall. In a few minutes I heard a heavy step - and turned around to face Salt Chunk Mary, the friend - of the bums and yeggs at Pocatello. More than fifteen - years had passed since she disappeared, yet I knew - her instantly. The same, level “right now” look from - her cold blue eyes; the same severe parting of her - brick-red hair; the same careful, clean, starched house - dress, and the same few short, sharp, meaningful - words told me it was she who had broken open the - town jail and set me free when no man would turn a - hand.</p> - - <p>“Oh, Mary!” I cried, and my hand went out to her. - I said something about Pocatello and the night I saw - her last, and about Foot-’n’-a-half George, long dead, - but she stopped me cold. Looking me straight in the - eye, she said in a tone of finality that left no chance of - an answer:</p> - - <p>“You are mistaken; you don’t know me. My name’s - not Mary, and I was never in Pocatello in my life.”</p> - - <p>When Mary said no she meant it. I went out and - away, envying that courageous woman who had the - strength to leave Pocatello and her life there, and bury - herself in a far corner of the North.</p> - - <p>After much thought I decided that Salt Chunk - Mary had washed her hands of the old life and old - associates and was trying to spend her remaining days - in peace. I saw her no more, and went my solitary - way, pistoling people away from their money—the - highwayman’s way.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_378">[378]</span>A distinguished chief of police in one of our big - cities gave this advice to the public:</p> - - <p>“If a holdup man stops you, grab him and yell at - the top of your voice.”</p> - - <p>That was the advice of a policeman; more, the - advice of a policeman who was never stuck up. I - know something about the stick-up game. I’ve been - stuck up myself. This is the first time I’ve told about - it, and it will be the last. I’m not advising any reader - what to do in case of a stick-up. I’m only telling what - I did.</p> - - <p>As I was walking home one mild midnight up - Haight Street, a young man came down the street - toward me. He was whistling a little tune, his hat was - on the back of his head, and he walked briskly, - swinging his arms.</p> - - <p>“Ah, ha,” thinks I, “here’s a young fellow that’s - just left his girl at her door. She gave him a kiss, - and he’s happy. He’s hurrying home now, and—” - my reflections ended. About ten feet away from me - his arms swung together and his right hand pulled a - long gun out of his left sleeve.</p> - - <p>“The real thing,” I said to myself, stopping.</p> - - <p>“Put up your hands.”</p> - - <p>I did.</p> - - <p>“Turn your face to that fence.”</p> - - <p>I did.</p> - - <p>He stepped up behind me and put something hard - against my spine.</p> - - <p>“All right, brother,” I said meekly. “It’s all yours. - It’s in my left-hand pants pocket.”</p> - - <p>He found it.</p> - - <p>“I’ve got a watch, brother, that’s worth a lot to - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_379">[379]</span>me; I wish you’d let me keep it. It would bring you - four dollars, but it might bring you forty years.”</p> - - <p>“Huh!” he grunted. He felt for the watch, took - it out of its pocket, “hefted” it in his hand, and put - it back. “You keep your face to that fence till I get - out of the block or I’ll ‘spray’ you with this - automatic.”</p> - - <p>I did.</p> - - <p>That’s the way I deal with a stick-up man.</p> - - <p>There is no way I know of to protect yourself from - the starving moron who pounces on you out of a dark - doorway, knocks you on the head with a “blunt - instrument,” and goes through your pockets after you are - on the sidewalk. That kind of “work” is - unprofessional, unnatural, and disgusting, and does not concern - me. The psychiatrist might explain and classify it; I - cannot.</p> - - <p>After circulating around with my pistol for a few - months I was arrested and, almost by chance, - identified as a fugitive from California justice. In short - order I was brought back to San Francisco.</p> - - <p>The first man that came to see me in the city prison - was Sam Newburgh, the attorney who had my case - when I escaped from the jail.</p> - - <p>Two days before I had escaped, the last fifty-dollar - payment on his fee had come due. At that time I was - almost sure I would escape and get away without any - trouble, and I was tempted to defer this payment and - put him off until later, because I saw I would have use - for the fifty dollars myself.</p> - - <p>But when he came out to the jail I paid it to him.</p> - - <p>He remembered this, and when I was brought back - he was the first man there to see me. To my surprise - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_380">[380]</span>and delight, he told me that my legal status was just - about the same as when I left. My appeal was still - pending.</p> - - <p>I had some thoughts that Mr. Older might feel I - had abused his confidence in leaving the jail, when he - was trying to do something for me. But he knew at - the time that I was turned down by every one and - didn’t have a chance of getting my liberty, so I hoped - he would understand.</p> - - <p>He came immediately to see me, and I explained - this to him. I said I never would have made a move - of that kind if there had been a chance; that I had to - do it in order to do myself justice. I said I knew - I would not live another two years in that jail; they - had all admitted they could do nothing for me, and I - thought I had a right to do as I did.</p> - - <p>He said, “I think you did the only thing. It was - the only way out for you. I would probably have - done the same thing myself.”</p> - - <p>He remarked that I was looking stronger and - healthier. I had gained about thirty pounds in - weight. Mr. Older could see in a minute that I had - quit the opium. He spoke of it at once.</p> - - <p>He said he would see if something could be done - for me. He thought it might be possible that the - district attorney’s office, on account of all the - complications of the case, would agree to ask for an amended - sentence, a sentence of only a year or two, if I would - stop fighting and plead guilty.</p> - - <p>I said: “If I had thought such a thing possible, - Mr. Older, I’d have paid my way back here and given - myself up!”</p> - - <p>I had little hope that any such thing would be done. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_381">[381]</span>I had never encountered anything like it. The next - day Maxwell McNutt of the district attorney’s office - came in to talk to me.</p> - - <p>He spoke about my escape, and I told him the - reasons for it as I had told the others. I explained - that I would not have had to do it if my friends had - been able to do something for me in the way of a - lighter sentence.</p> - - <p>He said that so far as the district attorney was - concerned, he thought I had served almost enough - time. I was astounded when I heard this. In all my - experience I had never encountered a district attorney’s - office that thought any criminal had served enough - time.</p> - - <p>This was a revelation to me in the ways of courts - and police. It was the first time I ever got any better - than the worst of it. I saw myself relieved of that - burden of a twenty-five-year sentence. I saw myself - coming out in a couple of years with the slate wiped - clean.</p> - - <p>I realized that Judge Dunne would be taking a - chance in giving me a sentence that amounted - practically to nothing. He had his place on the bench - and his reputation with his fellow judges and - the people to consider. If I came out of prison and - got into trouble immediately after, I would be - double-crossing him.</p> - - <p>I saw it was up to me to square myself and go to - work when I came out.</p> - - <p>After some delay the district attorney and the trial - judge agreed to amend the judgment, and a day was - set for me to go into court. Mr. Older asked me to - make a statement, hoping there might be something in - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_382">[382]</span>my experience that would throw some light on the - criminal problem that might help people to help - criminals.</p> - - <p>When I got into court I decided not to make this - statement until after I was sentenced, because I didn’t - want any one to feel that what I said was said for - selfish reasons, and if I said it before I was - sentenced it might appear that I was talking for leniency.</p> - - <p>I decided I had got all the leniency that was coming - to me, and very much more than I ever expected.</p> - - <p>The judge sentenced me to one year. That was - better than I had hoped for. The district attorney - had suggested it probably would not be more than two - years, but here the judge had cut even that in two.</p> - - <p>As near as I can recall them, my words were as - follows:</p> - - <p>“I would like to make a statement before it is too - late. I feel that this will be my last appearance in any - court as a defendant, and I want to make this - statement in the hope that there may be something in my - experience that will prove valuable to some one, - perhaps some one in authority who has to do with the - instruction and correction of offenders, particularly of - the younger ones.</p> - - <p>“I would not make this statement if I ever expected - to appear in court again as a defendant. As criminal - as it is, I will consider it as nothing if it prove of - value to any one, if my failure would cause some young - man to hesitate before it is too late, before he finds - himself charged with crime.</p> - - <p>“My prison experiences began with a sentence of - two years and thirty lashes in a Canadian prison. I - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_383">[383]</span>could not see that I deserved this flogging, and it - seemed when I got it that all the cruelty in the world - was visited on me—all the brutality, all the violence. - There was a lesson in cruelty I have never forgotten. - Fortunately, I had a disposition that hardened with - the flogging instead of breaking under it.</p> - - <p>“I proved an incorrigible prisoner while there. I - broke the rules many, many times in a small - way—nothing violent, nothing desperate, but I would talk, - laugh, whistle and sing, and that outraged the silence - of the system then in vogue.</p> - - <p>“I was punished repeatedly on bread and water, - the dark cell. The warden was a hard, stern man. - His motto was—‘break them first and make them - after.’</p> - - <p>“Then came the day for the second installment of my - flogging and my discharge from prison. I went out - with the skin on my back blistered and broken and my - mind bent on revenge. I went out of there with a - hatred for law and order, society and justice, discipline - and restraint, and everything that was orderly and - systematic. I had a hatred for courts, jailers, prison - keepers, and wardens. I hated policemen, prosecutors, - judges and jurors.</p> - - <p>“If I had reasoned right, I might have made a - better start than I did. But I had no experience to - guide me. I planned for revenge and I turned on - society to get it, because society furnishes the judges, - the jurors, the policemen, the prosecutors. Before I - got fairly started on my career of revenge I was back - in prison.</p> - - <p>“When I went back I learned more brutality and - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_384">[384]</span>violence. I knew the bread-and-water punishment, the - dark cell, the strait-jacket and the water cure. I - thought violent thoughts, I planned violent plans, and - I executed those plans as best I could as soon as I - got outside. I suppose a man’s actions are the - creatures of his thought, and his thoughts are naturally - the products of his environment and the conditions - under which he is forced to live.</p> - - <p>“If you put a boy in prison at the age I was, as - prisons were then, he will become a criminal as sure - as the day follows the night or the night follows the - day. I imagine those conditions were responsible for - many criminals of my age or thereabouts, who were - considered incorrigible. I won’t say confirmed, - because I believe there is no such thing as a confirmed - criminal. I have seen many miraculous reformations. - One man may be reformed through a woman, a - woman’s plea, a mother’s love. Others might be - reformed through the assistance and kindness of - friends. But still another might be reformed by an - act of kindness from some unexpected source. I - believe that one who has been brutalized can be turned - right by an act of kindness and be regenerated. It - looks reasonable.</p> - - <p>“When I stood up in this court to be sentenced for - twenty-five years, I was a criminal, as I have described. - I had learned the lesson of violence in prison, and I - believed that I lived in a world of violence, had to - use violence, and use it first. I had no more thought - of right or wrong than a wolf that prowls the prairie. - I hunted because I was hunted myself, and I showed - no consideration for anybody or anything because I - knew I would receive none.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_385">[385]</span>“I was a habitual criminal. I had formed the - criminal habit. Habit is the strongest thing in life, and - criminals such as I have described obey the impulse - to commit a crime almost subconsciously. So far as - the right or wrong is concerned, he gives it no more - thought than you would when you walk down the street - and open the gate to enter your front door. It is a - habit with you.</p> - - <p>“The twenty-five-year sentence I received made no - impression on me whatever. I expected it, and had - expected it for years. It was simply an incident, an - obstacle, another delay—a violent one, to be sure; - but I had dealt the game of violence, and when forced - to play at it I am not the one to complain.</p> - - <p>“So I went back to the county jail and my lawyer - went back to his law. Then came the fire that - destroyed the records of my conviction and sentence, - and put me in the perpetual criminal class at the county - jail. I became more permanent than the sheriff. I - saw them come and go, and after years of comparative - peace and quiet and fair treatment in the county jail - I began to change my views and think different - thoughts, and I looked forward to a different sort of - life.</p> - - <p>“A few friends rallied around and began to plan - ways and means to help me. They investigated, found - it impossible, and told me.</p> - - <p>“The future looked dark, and I was in despair. - The day of my deliverance seemed to be receding - instead of advancing. I planned to get my liberty in - another way, and I did get it, but I got it under such - circumstances as to make it impossible for me to lead - the life I had planned.</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_386">[386]</span>“It was impossible for me to mix with men in the - daytime. I was a fugitive. I was hunted again. I - had to seek the back streets on the darkest nights.</p> - - <p>“In a few months I found myself back in jail in San - Francisco. Then something occurred that surprised - me more than I can tell. I was told that there was - a possibility of my getting credit for the time that I - had served in the county jail, that I might get a - sentence I would see the end of, instead of one that would - see the end of me, and that it might be possible for - me to get out and lead a different kind of life.</p> - - <p>“This made a greater impression upon me than the - twenty-five-year sentence, this offer of help from such - a surprising source. At first I thought I was getting - the double-cross, but I investigated and found it was - true, and what little doubts I had were completely - shattered. I did not admit the possibility of any - kindness from judges, district attorneys, prosecutors, or - anybody who represents the people.</p> - - <p>“I now saw that I was wrong, and that it was up - to me to build new rules to regulate my conduct in the - future, that I would have to formulate a philosophy - that would admit the possibility of kindness from such - sources; from people who desired to help me if I - would help myself.</p> - - <p>“I have promised myself, and I promise the court, - that when I finish this sentence I shall look for the - best instead of the worst, that I shall look for kindness - instead of cruelty, and that I shall look for the good - instead of the bad, and when I find them I shall return - them with interest.</p> - - <p>“I am confident when I promise the court this that - I will not fail. I imagine I have enough character - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_387">[387]</span>left as a foundation on which to build a reformed life. - If I had no character, no will power, no determination, - I would have been broken long ago by the years of - imprisonment and punishment; and I would have been - useless and harmless and helpless, a force for neither - good nor bad.”</p> - - <p>Judge Dunne asked me if I had any choice of - prisons, and I said I preferred San Quentin because - I had already been in every other prison in the state, - and I would like to go over there and see what that - place was like.</p> - - <p>I left the courtroom with that one-year sentence - feeling as if I had received a Christmas gift; it was - the twenty-fourth of December.</p> - - <p>At San Quentin I had a hard time to convince - friends that my sentence was cut to one year. The - atmosphere there surprised me. There was none of - that smoldering hatred of officers; no hopeless, - despairing prisoners; no opium and no scheming to - get it in. Everybody was looking forward to parole. - There was no brutal punishment. A man’s credits - were safe. All those changes worked for the best. - Prisoners had a chance to shorten their time by good - conduct, and their conduct was good.</p> - - <p>One of the first “cons” to reach me was my friend, - Soldier Johnnie, doing a short sentence.</p> - - <p>I hadn’t seen him since leaving the Canadian prison, - where I got the dark cell for speaking to him. We - were comparing notes for a week. It was from him I - learned that the Sanctimonious Kid had escaped from - Canon City before finishing his fifteen years, and - that he had gone to Australia, where he was hanged - for killing a police constable. In turn, I told him of - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_388">[388]</span>Foot-’n’-a-half George’s death, and of Mary’s - disappearance into the Far North.</p> - - <p>Johnnie finished his time first, and went back to - the road, where he probably will live out his life and - die unwept, unhonored, and unhung.</p> - - <p>I put in my sentence without any trouble and came - out in ten months. That was thirteen years ago.</p> - - <p>On the boat for San Francisco I saw the bar. At - once I felt that I needed a jolt of booze. I got it.</p> - - <p>Then I saw the lunch counter. I at once felt the - need of a cup of real coffee. I got that. After that, - I sat down on a bench and thought it over.</p> - - <p>Here I was, physically fit and serviceably sound, - walking up to that bar and buying a drink of whisky - I didn’t need just because I happened to see the bar, - and then a cup of coffee just because I saw the coffee - urn.</p> - - <p>I decided I would have to beware of the power of - suggestion. The bar had suggested whisky and the - lunch counter coffee, and I fell for them both.</p> - - <p>Anyway, I made up my mind that I would close - my eyes when I got to the ferry building for fear I - might see a sack of registered mail lying around loose. - It would suggest days of ease and nights of pleasure, - and I might fall for that.</p> - - <p>I got through the ferry building and walked up - Market Street, as they all do. In time I found myself - in Mr. Older’s anteroom. There were several men - waiting to see him. I looked them over and said to - myself, “There’s preachers, politicians, and pickpockets - in that bunch. I’ll be lucky if I don’t have to wait an - hour.”</p> - - <p>The young lady took my name and I was the first - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_389">[389]</span>one in. Mr. Older was there with a suggestion, too; - luncheon at the Palace Hotel.</p> - - <p>I’m not strong for eating in swell places, but I do - like quick contrasts. I had my breakfast in San - Quentin, so why not lunch at the Palace?</p> - - <p>We had a good meal. While we were eating, Mr. - Older suggested that I come down to his ranch for - a few days, till I got my bearings again in the outside - world and was ready to begin work.</p> - - <p>I was glad to do this. It helped get me over the - hardest part of the life of the ex-prisoner who intends - to go square; the first few weeks out of prison. I went - down that night for a week and stayed six months.</p> - - <p>I would have been content to stay there always. I - was able to do enough on the ranch to pay for my - board and shelter, and I liked it. But it was necessary - after a while for me to come back to San Francisco - and go to work. My room was wanted on the ranch - by other men who needed it worse than I did.</p> - - <p>Eddie Graney needs no introduction here. I only - hope this story has as many readers as he has friends. - While he is known and respected for his square - decisions as a referee of big fights, I think his fame rests - chiefly on the fact that while he has the finest billiard - rooms west of—oh, well, west of anywhere—he has - not yet learned how to play billiards.</p> - - <p>Graney gave me my first job—cashier in his pool - room—handling his money. After a few months a - better job appeared. With a letter of introduction - I saw Mr. B. F. Schlesinger of the Emporium.</p> - - <p>“Where did you work last?” he asked.</p> - - <p>“At Eddie Graney’s.”</p> - - <p>“And before that?”</p> - - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_390">[390]</span>“At San Quentin, in the jute mill.”</p> - - <p>He knew all about me and put me to work as - salesman in the book department. I knew something about - books—I had been librarian at the county jail. I was - honest—hadn’t stolen any of Graney’s money. I felt - perfectly at ease among the books, and made good. - Book selling grew dull later, and I was slated for a - transfer to another department. At the manager’s - office I was told that the only vacancy was on the - ribbon counter. I looked in a mirror on the wall and - saw a face in it that didn’t seem to belong behind the - ribbon counter.</p> - - <p>I said: “Mr. Schlesinger, this is a great life if you - know when to weaken. I think this is where I’ll - weaken.”</p> - - <p>At lunch time I saw Mr. Older and told him about - it. Fortunately, there was a vacancy at the <em>Bulletin</em> - in the circulation department just then and I got the - job. I left the Emporium with the best wishes and - good will of everybody I met there. When Mr. Older - became editor of <em>The Call</em> he found a place there for - me as librarian; I still have that job.</p> - - <p>In thirteen years I have learned to work—some day - I may learn to like it. Yet it is so easy and simple and - safe and secure that I now wonder how any man - coming out of prison could think of doing anything else. - The pity of it is that so many ex-prisoners who do think - of trying to work can’t get it. I take no credit - whatever for going to work. I could have done that years - before.</p> - - <p>I quit stealing and learned working because I was - in a hole where I could not do otherwise. I was in - hock to friends who saved me from a heavy sentence, - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_391">[391]</span>provided me with work, and expected only that I stay - out of jail. That’s not asking much of a man—to - keep out of jail. The judge who cut my sentence took - a greater chance than I ever did. If I had gone back - “sticking up” people, the judge’s critics could have said - that he, and he alone, made it possible—and that’s - precisely why I quit.</p> - - <p>If I had stolen Graney’s, the Emporium’s, or the - <em>Bulletin’s</em> money, they could have said that Older made - it possible, and had I been tempted to steal that - thought would have stopped me. I cannot say I quit - stealing because I knew it was wrong. I quit because - there was no other way for me to discharge the - obligations I had accepted. Whatever measure of - reformation I have won is directly due to Fremont Older - and Judge Dunne of the Superior Court. They took - a chance on me, a long chance, and it will be a long - time before they regret it. Fremont Older has been - a rock in a weary land to me, and Judge Dunne has - been a shelter in the time of storm.</p> - - <p>It has been easy for me. The noble woman who - found me rotting in jail physically and mentally is still - my friend, I am proud to say. The kindly Christian - couple who gave me a home with them in San - Francisco and treated me as a son are still my friends. - Friends everywhere, to help and advise and encourage. - Even friends from the road and the jungles drop into - my office and shake hands and say: “More power to - you, old-timer. You’re sure makin’ good. I’m goin’ - to try it myself some day.”</p> - - <p>My feuds with the police are dead and buried. No - copper has bothered me or obstructed me. Many of - them have offered in good faith to help me. And so - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_392">[392]</span>I say it has been easy for me to go on the square. I - speak only of my own experience; others may not have - been so fortunate in finding friends.</p> - - <p>I wish I could sift out a few grains of wisdom from - my life that would help people to help prisoners, and - help prisoners to help themselves, but I can’t find them. - I don’t know. All I can say with certainty is that - kindness begets kindness, and cruelty begets cruelty. - You can make your choice and reap as you sow.</p> - - <p>I am not worrying about prisons. If they improve - as much in the coming twenty years as they have in - the last twenty, they will have to be called something - else. While the number of convicts is increasing, the - percentage of second and third timers, habitual - criminals, is decreasing. That’s hopeful, and it’s because - of more humane treatment, more liberal parole laws, - and the extension of road building and other work, - that fits a prisoner for the outside, gives him the work - habit.</p> - - <p>Highway building by convicts is the sanest and most - constructive step I have seen. Instead of - appropriating money to build a third prison in California, the - same money might be expended in road-building - materials, and one of our two prisons emptied into - the road camps, where the prisoner could be - self-supporting and not a dead weight on the taxpayer while - in prison, and worse after he gets out.</p> - - <p>A certain number of prisoners, say ten per cent, - always have and always will abuse probation and - parole. The ninety per cent of prisoners who respect - probation and parole more than justify the laws under - which they are released. Probation to boys and young - men should be extended. Paroles to first-time convicts - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_393">[393]</span>should be more liberal. Paroles to second-timers might - well be closely scrutinized, and for third-timers—if - the Prison Board “throws the key away” on them they - will die off and settle their own problem. I am in the - third or fourth-timer class myself, and if I got back - into prison and the board sentenced me to life with - the privilege of applying for parole after fifteen years, - I wouldn’t have to look very far for the person - responsible for it.</p> - - <p>As I see it, the criminals of this generation should - cause no concern. They will soon be out of the way. - The problem wouldn’t be solved by shooting them all - at sunrise, or by releasing them all at sunrise. - Something might be done for the generation that is coming - up. It seems to me there’s the place to start—but - what to do, I don’t know.</p> - - <p>I am sure of but one thing—I failed as a thief, and - at that I am luckier than most of them. I quit with - my health and liberty. What price larceny, burglary, - and robbery? Half my thirty years in the underworld - was spent in prison. Say I handled $50,000 in the - fifteen years I was outside; that’s about nine dollars - a day. How much of that went to lawyers, fixers, - bondsmen, and other places? Then count in the years - in prison—suffering, hardship, privation. This was - years ago when there was much less police protection.</p> - - <p>“What chance have you now?” I would ask any - young man, “with shotgun squads, strong-arm squads, - and crime crushers cruising the highways and byways; - with the deadly fingerprinting, central identification - bureau, and telephotȯing of pictures; and soon every - police station broadcasting ahead of you your - description and record? Then consider the accidents and - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_394">[394]</span>snitches—what chance have you? Figure it out - yourself. I can’t.”</p> - - <p>Had I spent that thirty years at any useful - occupation and worked as hard at it and thought and planned - and brought such ingenuity and concentration to bear - on it, I would be independent to-day. I would have a - home, a family perhaps, and a respected position in - my community. I have none of those, but I have a - job, I have two suits of clothes, I have two furnished - rooms in a flat. I have as many friends as I can be - loyal to. I am fifty years old, and so healthy that - when I hear my friends holding forth about their - ailments I feel ashamed of myself. I would not turn - time backward and be young again, neither do I wish - to reach the century mark and possible senility.</p> - - <p>I have no money, no wife, no auto. I have no dog. - I have neither a radio set nor a rubber plant—I have - no troubles.</p> - - <p>I borrow money from my friends in a pinch, ride - in their machines, listen to their radios, make friends - with their dogs, admire their flowers, and praise their - wives’ cooking.</p> - - <p>If I could wish for anything else it would be a little - more moderation, a little more tolerance, and a little - more of the trustful innocence of that boy who learned - his prayers at the knee of the gentle, kindly old priest - in the Sisters’ Convent School.</p> - - <div class="chapter"> - <div class="transnote"> - <p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> - <p>The following typographical errors in the Macmillan - edition from 1926 have been corrected:</p> - <ul> - <li>An extra comma appeared after "Well, whatever" - in Chapter 3 on page 21.</li> - <li>A period was missing after the word "toes" at the - end of a sentence in Chapter 9 on page 108.</li> - <li>"Zion's co-operative Mercantile Institution" in - Chapter 13 on page 170 is a proper noun and the - name of a business, so the "c" has been - capitalized as well.</li> - <li>A period was missing at the end of the sentence - that begins with "The lashing is regulated by law" - in Chapter 19 on page 277.</li> - <li>"Ottawa" was misspelled as "Ottowa" in Chapter 20 - on page 312. Ottawa is later spelled correctly in - Chapter 22. The variant with two O's only - appeared in this single instance.</li> - </ul> - </div> - </div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOU CAN'T WIN ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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