During the ensuing applause he signed this production. Steve pocketed it gravely. "Thank you," he said. "When I get down to husks I'll look up my locoed parent."
"The Bird of Time," said the Transient vociferously, "hash but a little way to flutter. Cash in! The bird ish on the wing! Tomorro'sh tangle to the winds reshign. Come, all ye midnight roish-roishterers! A few more kindly cupsh for Auld Lang Shine. Then let ush eshcort thish highwayman to the gatesh of the city and cash him forth to outer darknesh! Let ush shing!
I stood on a flush at midnight,
When my money was nearly gone,
And two moonsh rosh over the city
Where there shouldn't have been but one."
* * * * *
In Ohio, one of rough appearance, clad in a fire-new, ready-made suit, began to pervade Thompson's car; restlessly rushing from one side to the other in conscientious effort to see all there was to be seen; finally taking to the vestibule as affording better conveniences for observations. He was, however, not so absorbed in the scenery but that he took sharp note of the cowboy's unsophisticated garb and guileless mien. Later, when Steve went into the smoker, he struck up acquaintance with him; initiated by the mere demand for a light, continued through community of interest, as both being evidently non-urban.
A voluble and open-hearted person, the stranger, displaying much specie during their not infrequent visits to the buffet for refreshment of the jocund grape, where they vied with each other in liberality, and one who naively imparted his private history without reticence. A lumberman, who had risen from the ranks; a Non-Com. of Industry, so to speak, who, having made his pile, was now, impelled by filial piety, revisiting his old New England Home.
This touching confidence so ingratiated the bluff and hearty son of toil to the unsuspicious cowboy, that he, in turn, began, to ooze information at every pore. Steve Thompson was his name; miner of Butte, Montana. He had, after years of struggle and defeat, made a lucky strike. He had bonded his mine to New York parties—the Copper-bottom, just to the left of the High Line Trail from Anaconda to Philipsburgh; receiving $10,000 down for a quarter interest, giving option on two-thirds remainder for $50,000, if, after six months' development work, the mine justified its promise. It had proved all his fancy painted it; he was on his way to the big town, to be paid the balance on the sixteenth, at the office of—where is that letter? Oh, yes, here it is—"Atwood, Strange & Atwood, 25 Broad St."—retaining a one-fourth interest. He was going to see the sights. Possibly he would take a trip round the world.
Incited by judicious interest of his auditor, he prattled on and on, till the lumberman—(Dick Barton, the name of him)—was possessed with the salient points of his past, present and future; embellished by a flood of detail and personal reminiscence. It is to be regretted that the main points were inaccurate and apocryphal, the collateral details gratuitous improvisations, introduced for the sake of local color.
"For," Steve reasoned, "evidently this party is a seeker after knowledge; it is better to siphon than to be pumped. Doubtless it will be as bread upon the waters."
Freely did he gush and freely buy—(the bulk of his money, in large bills, was safely wadded at the bottom of the six-shooter scabbard under his arm, his .45 on guard—but his well-filled billbook was much in evidence). So thoroughly charmed was Barton that he lamented loud and long that he and his new acquaintance might not have their first view of the metropolis in company. But he had promised his aged parents to come to them directly, by way of Albany. However, he was a day ahead of his schedule; neither of them had seen Niagara; if Thompson would excuse him, he would write his father, that the letter would go on to herald the hour of his coming. Then they both would take one day's lay-over at Buffalo, visiting the famous cataract entirely at his, Barton's, expense. Thence, exchanging addresses, on their respective ways, to meet in Manhattan later. To which Thompson agreed with cordiality.