The Other Fellow

sker, bareheaded, and without a coat-there was snow on the ground, too-and who said he was the landlord, lifted my yellow bag from one of the long chintz-covered

of baking loungers. My oversight was promptly noted by the clerk-a sallow-faced young man with an uncomfortably high collar, red necktie, and stooping shoulders-and as promptly corrected by his

ure, his spectacles on his nose

what's going to lect

far is it

it was you when yer got out I'd told the driver to come back for you. But it's a

king chair, and guided a spittoon into range with his foot. Then he backed away a little and began to scrutinize my face. Something about me evidently puzzled

curves around his mouth and lost itself in faint ripples under his eyes. Hitching his chair closer, he spread his

m 'fore they got to the crossin'. 'Twas spring weather and the winders was up. He didn't have no baggage-only a paper box and a strap. I got supper for him when he come back, and he did eat hearty-did me good to watch him." Then, looking at the clock and recalling his duties a

and picking up the yellow bag myself-hall-boys are sca

swallow-tail, white tie, and white waistcoat-I was again h

the stove. No remarks were made-none aloud, the splendor of my appearance and the immaculate nature of my appointments seeming to have paralyzed general conversation for the moment. This silence continued. I confess I did not know how to break it. Tavern stoves are often tryin

irds' bathtubs, plenty of green pickles, and dabs of home-made preserves in pressed glass

eters nearer the centre of comfort. All doubts, however, were dispelled by the arrival of a thickset man with ruddy cheeks, who slammed the door behind him and moved quickly toward the stove, shedding the snow from his high boots as he walked. He nodded to the landlord and spread his stiff

ll's Diggings. He'll take you. This man"-he now p

keen and penetrating eye resting for an instant on my white shirt and waistc

t to take Dick Sands over to Millwood

rom the other side of the stove. I

replied the driver

ice expressed not only s

that carried with it his instant intention of br

did he git out?" cr

that no one impugned his veracity, he added in a milder tone: "His old moth

't be back in time." The landlord pronounced the word "gentleman" wit

it, and used to runnin', too"-this last with a dry

ice rising. "He'll ride like a white man, he will,

the room. They were fired pointblank at

take Dick?" inquired the lan

time to catc

gings for Dick, and then"-pointing again at me-"you can drop him at

d me closely and

nt to mix in with Dick"-

red meekly, "provided I can re

y in the middle, and said with deep earnest

all, stranger. Dick's ser

ce evidently betr

ust time-last trip

s, his eyes fixed on mine, noting the effect of the sh

elt, too, the necessity of proving myself up to the c

ience and knowledge of the world, one who had traveled extensively, and whose knowledge of convicts and other shady characters was consequently large and varied. The prehistoric age of t

ver and laid his hand on my shoulder and said in a softened voice: "When ye git 'longside o'

e stove, by the aid of his elbows, lifted himself perpendicularly, unhooked a co

eye it will," and disa

rnut man with the sinister expression, an

second time dropped i

is way home and asked after his mother. He hadn't heard from her for a month, and was nigh worried to death about her. I told him she was all right, an

said with a yawn, addressing the pots of geraniums on the window sill, "Them as likes jail-birds can have jail-birds," and lounged out of the room, followed by the cit

m mill up to the Forks and sells tanglefoot and groceries to the miners. By Sunday mornin' he's got 'bout every cent they've earned. There ain't a woman in the settlement wouldn't be glad if somebody would

im to listen the better. His last remark, too, explained a sign tacked over the des

asked. "There seems to be some

't have no common sense-that's what his crime was. I've known Dick sin

ng at my watch. "So the driver said." I had not the slighte

Polk did that. Polk's dead now. God help him if he'd been alive when Dick got out the last time. First question he asked me after I told him his mother was al

s calls me 'Uncle Jimmy,'-'he'd saved himself a heap o' wo