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.
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.
I called at the theater and inquired, but they had forgotten her.
CHAPTER VI
As 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.”
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.
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.
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.”
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.
“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.”