My grip had been left in charge of Jennings & White, to be forwarded to me in case I reached Searchlight safely.
I told some kind-hearted gentleman on the street of my trouble, and he kindly advised me to apply to the Los Angeles Chief of Police.
"He'll get you a place to sleep to-night," said the man, giving me the street and number of the Chief's office.
I lost sight of the fact that I was again dressed for hoboing the railroad, and that the chief might be unfavorably impressed with my appearance.
I reached his office, which was located in a large stone building, just after nightfall.
He listened to my story a moment or so, but instead of furnishing me with an address and the wherewithal to obtain a night's sleep at some lodging house, he tapped a bell on the desk.
The next moment a blue coat entered the office.
I now began to grow suspicious, but it was too late.
"Take that man around for a night's lodging," said the Chief, and before I could gather my wits I was whisked from the Chief's presence into another department.