"Hide your dress suit case!" he whispered.
I had barely done so when the Mexican came out of the depot.
It was nearly dark now and there was a surging crowd of ladies and men on the depot yards waiting to meet the incoming train.
Allen pushed his way through the crowd and once more directed the Mexican's attention towards me.
The Mexican had no sooner glanced at me than he took out a pencil and wrote something on Allen's pass. A few moments later he left the depot and went hurrying up the street; and Allen approached me with a smile.
Upon his pass had been scrawled the two words, "And friend."
Shortly after, we were comfortably seated in a Southern Pacific passenger coach and bound far out upon the desert to Gila City, 180 miles away.
Allen had but thirty-five cents, while I was again stranded without a penny.
Just as day was breaking we were roused by the conductor and put down at Gila City.