At this stage of the dialogue, I saw a police station. "Come with me," I said, "I want to procure a license. Then we'll have a 'smile.'"
And, to my utter surprise and gratification, both men stepped off the car and followed me like faithful dogs into the police station.
"Where's the Chief of Police?" I inquired of a man in uniform, who stepped toward me.
"Right here before you," was the answer.
"Well, arrest these bunco-steerers," I said, dropping my odd-looking luggage and laying a hand on each man's shoulder. I never saw greater astonishment and embarrassment than was expressed by these two confidence men at being so easily trapped by their "Uncle Rube."
"This man met me at the train when my depot came in," I continued, excitedly, in lapsus linguæ. "He knew my name, business, and previous condition of fortune, and put me on a car where he introduced this pal of his, and if I hadn't been forwarned against such fellows by my Uncle Hiram, and caught on to the game, I would have been robbed by this time and chucked into the sewer."
This was enough for the Chief. He seized each man by the collar. Instantly the first man found his tongue and tried to explain matters, and finally did so, to the satisfaction of all concerned. But what a surprise party for Pye Pod!
"Well! well!! well!!!" I exclaimed, my heart thumping like a pile-driver, as I realized my embarrassing predicament. "Who would have thought it? Mr. Adams, of course! My dear sir, how stupid of me! I have wronged you and your friend unmercifully. When I telegraphed you (the Chief here loosened his hold on the men) I never thought you would attempt to meet me at the train, let alone have time to. Your address of 131609 Wellington avenue, I supposed must be near to the State line; Chicago has grown so. Couldn't conceive how you could reach the depot before to-morrow."
Of course, it was "up to me" to treat. So I left my saddle-bags, and going to a cigar store, purchased a dime's worth of cheroots, and did myself nobly by the chief and the confidence men, whose faces were bloated and red on my return. Then my forgiving host took me to his distant home, where, after dinner, we enjoyed a smoke—of his own cigars—and a hearty laugh over my exceptional initiation to Chicago life.
While smoking and chatting, my host happened to mention a big mass meeting to be held that evening at Lincoln Turner Hall. The doors were to be opened at eight o'clock. It was now seven-thirty. At once I explained my financial stress, and told him that the object of my advance trip by train was to try to make enough money to continue my donkey journey. Adams suggested that, that being the case, we should attend the meeting, by all means; so we hurried off.