This may seem strange, but it’s a fact. The underworld beggars are the most reliable and trustworthy, the most self-sacrificing and the quickest to help of any class of people outside the pale of society. Crippled, wounded thieves, fugitives and escaping prisoners, if they know what they are about, always turn to the beggars for aid and are never refused. They are sheltered in the beggar’s humble “flop,” his small “plunge” (money he begs) is divided with them, and he carries messages any distance to their friends and relatives. The beggar minds his own business, settles his own feuds, and I cannot recall ever seeing one of them in court testifying against anybody for anything.
This convention at Pocatello ended in a most unusual way. Nobody was killed, none of them fell in the fire. There was no fighting. When their “pennies” were all “slopped up,” and the food eaten, the bums folded their tents and stole silently away to their different activities.
Sanc and Johnnie borrowed money from Mary and we went back to Ogden, where they prepared for their journey, horseback, after our coin.
“Are you both going?” I asked.
“Yes,” they answered without looking at each other. I wondered if each mistrusted the other, and if I would ever see either of them again, or any of the money.
My fear of never seeing Sanc or Johnnie was groundless and a wrong to them. They returned within a week to the cheap lodging house where we quartered at Ogden. The four thousand was split in three equal parts. I was sent out with about seventy-five dollars in silver coin to lay off for paper or gold. They looked at me curiously as I stowed away my bit.
“Top dough for you, isn’t it, kid?” said Sanc.
“Yes, two hundred was the most I ever had. I didn’t expect to get one-third of this money. I doubt if I earned it. I took no chances. You two did all the work.”
“We talked that over,” he replied, “and decided you were entitled to an even cut. It was your caper, you located it. You had the nerve to propose what we first thought was a bughouse caper. We are clean so far as the coppers are concerned. If we ever do any time for this we’ll have to plead guilty to it. The constable of that town would be our best witness if we got picked up on it. He would never admit that we could screw (key) out of his jail, beat that box, plant the coin, throw the jail screws in the creek, and go back and lock ourselves up. He might admit that it could happen to some other jail, but he will swear it couldn’t be done to his, see?
“But here’s the main reason we gave you an even cut of the coin. From the way you stepped in Smiler’s case, and the way you took your jolt in the cooler at the ‘big house’ we know you are ‘right.’ If anything had gone wrong with this caper and we had to take a pinch, we figured you would have been a big help on the outside. That’s why you are declared ‘in and in’ with the works.