It had been a harrowing experience, but it would
not happen again.
He had now one definite purpose in mind. He walked straight out of
town and down the river road until he came to a sufficiently solitary
place. Then he took off his clothes and sat down on the bank and
performed a most elaborate toilet. For half an hour at least he
scrubbed his head with sand and water, and combed his hair out with
his fingers. And then he went over his clothing inch by inch. At least
he would be through with one hideous reminder of his imprisonment.
After which he dressed again and went back to town and found the
saloon where he had eaten.
"Hello!" said his friend Finnegan, the bar-keeper. "Back again!"
"I came to explain about this morning," said Samuel. "I couldn't come
because they put me in jail."
"Gee!" said the other; but then he added, with a laugh, "Well, it was
a wet night."
Samuel did not reply. "I'll come to-morrow morning," he said.
"You'd better get out of town, sonny," advised the other.
"I'm all right. The judge gave me a dollar."
"Humph! A dollar won't last forever."
"No. But I've got the promise of a job. There was a gentleman there--
Professor Stewart, from the college."
"Hully gee!" said Finnegan. "I know that guy. A little runt with a
black beard?"
"I guess so," said Samuel dubiously.
"I seen his pitcher in the paper," said the other.
Pages:
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50