Sitting in a little park in Los Angeles some one sat down on the other
end of the bench. Seeing a dilapidated pair of boots that did not
match I went on reading. After a while the stillness was broken by:
"Got ten cents pardner?"
"What do you want ten cents for?" said I.
"Well, pardner, I'm here from Milwaukee, was in the lumber trade
there and got six dollars a day, my brother has a big place there;
he sent me some money yesterday, I got broke, an' I went on a tear
an' spent it all, an' my mouth's awful dry an' I want a drink." It
sounded straight so we had a talk about the Keeley cure about which
I told him, and about Florida and lumber about which he told me and
compromised on twenty-five cents of which he agreed to spend fifteen
on solid food; hope he did.
[Illustration: "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the Boys Are Marching."]