“They would have sent me the money for my fare if Ihad asked for it，” I explained， “but they have had sicknessand business troubles. His partner cheated him. And soI wouldn’t write for the money. I knew I could make myway there somehow. I let them think I had enough to getme to Salt Lake City. She is lovely， and so kind. She wasalways kind to me. I guess I’ll go into the shop and learnthe trade. She has two daughters. They are younger than I.One is only a baby.”
Of all my married sisters that I have distributed amongthe cities of the United States， that Salt Lake sister is myfavorite. She is quite real， too. When I tell about her， I cansee her， and her two little girls， and her plumber husband.
She is a large， motherly woman， just verging on beneficentstoutness—the kind， you know， that always cooks nicethings and that never gets angry. She is a brunette. Herhusband is a quiet， easy-going fellow. Sometimes I almostknow him quite well. And who knows but some day I maymeet him？ If that aged sailorman could remember BillyHarper， I see no reason why I should not some day meetthe husband of my sister who lives in Salt Lake City.
On the other hand， I have a feeling of certitude withinme that I shall never meet in the flesh my many parentsand grandparents—you see， I invariably killed them off.
Heart disease was my favorite way of getting rid of mymother， though on occasion I did away with her by meansof consumption， pneumonia， and typhoid fever. It istrue， as the Winnipeg policemen will attest， that I havegrandparents living in England； but that was a long timeago and it is a fair assumption that they are dead by now.
At any rate， they have never written to me.
I hope that woman in Reno will read these lines andforgive me my gracelessness and unveracity. I do notapologize， for I am unashamed. It was youth， delight inlife， zest for experience， that brought me to her door.
It did me good. It taught me the intrinsic kindliness ofhuman nature. I hope it did her good. Anyway， she mayget a good laugh out of it now that she learns the realinwardness of the situation.
To her my story was “true”. She believed in me andall my family， and she was filled with solicitude for thedangerous journey I must make ere I won to Salt LakeCity. This solicitude nearly brought me to grief. Just as Iwas leaving， my arms full of lunch and my pockets bulgingwith fat woollen socks， she bethought herself of a nephew，or uncle， or relative of some sort， who was in the railwaymail service， and who， moreover， would come throughthat night on the very train on which I was going to stealmy ride. The very thing！ She would take me down to thedepot， tell him my story， and get him to hide me in themail car. Thus， without danger or hardship， I would becarried straight through to Ogden. Salt Lake City was onlya few miles farther on. My heart sank. She grew excited asshe developed the plan and with my sinking heart I had tofeign unbounded gladness and enthusiasm at this solutionof my difficulties.
Solution！ Why I was bound west that night， and herewas I being trapped into going east. It was a trap， and Ihadn’t the heart to tell her that it was all a miserable lie.
And while I made believe that I was delighted， I was busycudgelling my brains for some way to escape. But therewas no way. She would see me into the mail-car—she saidso herself—and then that mail-clerk relative of hers wouldcarry me to Ogden. And then I would have to beat my wayback over all those hundreds of miles of desert.
But luck was with me that night. Just about the time shewas getting ready to put on her bonnet and accompanyme， she discovered that she had made a mistake. Hermail-clerk relative was not scheduled to come throughthat night. His run had been changed. He would not comethrough until two nights afterward. I was saved， for ofcourse my boundless youth would never permit me to waitthose two days. I optimistically assured her that I’d getto Salt Lake City quicker if I started immediately， and Ideparted with her blessings and best wishes ringing in myears.
But those woollen socks were great. I know. I worea pair of them that night on the blind baggage of theoverland， and that overland went west.
