“Yes.”
“Which way?”
“Denver.”
“Beating it?”
“Yes.”
“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.”
“Thanks, I’ll try it.”
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?”
“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.
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.