When I think of the time when we painted the interior of the house for one Mr. Farnsworth, our employer, I certainly smile out loud. We painted everything except the paper on the wall, and we would have done that had there been any to paint. And when Mr. Farnsworth, assuming the rôle of an art critic, said, "That's a very poor job, boys," Anderson replied, "Well, you can't expect a Raphael for twelve dollars a week." This, like our other jobs, did not last long, for two hours afterward Farnsworth learned of the fight I had had with Mrs. Williams' cook, an Irish lady of some two hundred pounds, and he promptly fired us.
When he turned us off we each had about five dollars coming to us so we lit out for our old haunts over on Halstead street, where we knew that board would be cheap at five "per." By this time we were both getting pretty tired of the city proper and wanted to get out on the big ranch lands of the Northwest, where we could work and probably save a little money. I finally hatched up a scheme by which we were able to make enough of the "elusive" to pay our way into the wild and wooly West. It was on a Saturday night that we put into practice this well grounded scheme of mine.
Away back in my knickerbocker days I had had some experience as a patent medicine peddler, so it dawned on me that we would be able to make a few dollars by selling patent medicines. Saturday afternoon I rented from my friend Ikey a long black coat, a tall silk hat, a big imitation diamond, and a few other little necessary articles to give me the appearance of a typical patent medicine doctor. At the Drug Store around the corner from where we lived I purchased a dime's worth of new stoppers, a piece of red sealing wax, a couple of bottles of vanilla, and one small bottle of myrrh. These articles safely stored in my room, I put Anderson to work making the wonderful preparation, while I went out to purchase a basketful of bottles from the second hand bottle dealer. Returning to the room with the bottles, about one hundred in all, I found that Will had the mixtures prepared and then we set ourselves to work filling the bottles. After all the bottles had been filled we placed a new stopper in each one, then sealed it artistically with the highly colored wax.
Saturday night is a joyful one for the laboring people of that section of Chicago, so by eight o'clock we had our drygoods box placed on the corner of Halstead and Van Buren streets, I think, where there are hundreds of people passing all the time. A big torch was burning, and there I stood on top of the box all decked out in my "rentals," making the greatest speech of my life to the people who crowded around. I ended by saying, "Now, ladies and gentlemen, is the time, for there are only a few bottles of this wonderful compound left."
"A big Torch was Burning, and there I Stood on Top of the Box all Decked out in my Rentals."
(Wanderlust.)
Anderson, who was standing in the middle of the crowd, elbowed his way to the front, planked fifty cents down on the box and at the same time remarking, "Give me a bottle of that; it is the only kind that ever done me any good." It is wonderful how the sophisticated inhabitants of large cities can be fooled. This started them, and it wasn't long before our supply was exhausted. I returned the clothes to my friend Ikey, and the next day we were on our way to the real West, our tickets reading Yankton, South Dakota.
The morning we arrived in Yankton it was raining, so instead of going out to look for a job, we hung around one of the general mercantile establishments all the forenoon. We had only about twenty cents between us and we spent it for sardines and soda crackers. That afternoon we were successful in landing a job out on Brown's ranch, a distance of fifty miles from Yankton.
We learned that Brown had been wanting a couple of men for some time, and he had notified the manager of the store to the effect that if any stray ones came around his place of business to advise him and he would send in after them. The storekeeper put the proposition up to us and we accepted on the spot. We had to spend the night in Yankton, and he advanced us money with which to pay our lodging. The next morning, by break of day, we were on our way to the great ranch lands and those two little western horses attached to that light wagon were only about six hours in conveying us to "Brown's X," as it was generally known throughout the country of South Dakota.
Six long lonely months were enough on that ranch. There was only one incident of any importance during our stay at Brown's place in the heart of the range country of Dakota. A part of a letter received from my good friend Anderson not many months ago will acquaint the reader with this little episode of mine. In recalling some of our past experiences, he writes: "Say, but didn't we make the eatables do the disappearing act, though, when we would come in after inhaling great draughts of Dakota ozone? And those cow-punchers were all good fellows—that is, all except Baker. I am at a loss to understand why he had it in for you, unless it was your unconscious 'hit' with that Parker girl, and I think he had designs on her himself. I believe that when he dared you to ride that 'bronco' without saddle, bridle, or stirrups, or anything else except a girth, that he hoped you would either be killed or permanently injured, for he seemed disappointed when you came out unscratched. Straddling the bare back of an 'outlaw' with a mean disposition is a darn tough proposition, especially as you have nothing to hold on to except the mane. I'll never forget the day Baker told the Bunch that after he had finished dinner he was going to show that 'college kid' a few things about the manly art, and when you came to, you would probably know something.