I had worked hard to get as far as I had got in the business. How I managed to get acquainted with one of the leading spirits of the gang I ain’t going to tell.
It is enough to say that I had got acquainted with him and that he had promised to initiate me that night.
“Red McCann”—that was his name. I met him in the gin-mill ten minutes later.
He and two other toughs were waiting for me by appointment. They greeted me in the most friendly manner and we had several beers at my expense.
It was a great night for me, and I was expected to treat. I was going to “join the gang.”
Soon we started across lots working down toward the river. Just what street we were near at last I can’t say, for but few were opened then, and these being cut through the solid rock all looked alike. It was terrible cold, and I want you to understand that I was glad to get to the end of the journey at last.
“Ain’t we most there?” I asked of Red McCann. “I’m just about perished.”
“Oh, you’ll be there soon enough, cully,” he answered, winking at his companion, a fellow called “Schnitz.” Whether it was really his name or not, I’m sure I don’t know.
I saw the wink, and for the first time I began to wonder whether, after all, I had not deceived myself in thinking that I had deceived these fellows as to my true character.
But, no; I couldn’t believe it—I wouldn’t believe it.