one ever objected to. I have seen him with a group of staid faculty folk
sitting breathless at his Clearwater yarns; and how he loved to tell
those tales! Three and a half months he and Hal were in--hunting,
fishing, jerking meat, trailing after lost horses, having his dreams of
Idaho come true. (If our sons fail to have those dreams!)

When Hal returned to college, the _Wanderlust_ was still too strong in
Carl; so he stopped off in Spokane, Washington, penniless, to try
pot-luck. There were more tales to delight a gathering. In Spokane he
took a hand at reporting, claiming to be a person of large experience,
since only those of large experience were desired by the editor of the
"Spokesman Review." He was given sport, society, and the tenderloin to
cover, at nine dollars a week. As he never could go anywhere without
making folks love him, it was not long before he had his cronies among
the "sports," kind souls "in society" who took him in, and at least one
strong, loyal friend,--who called him "Bub," and gave him much
excellent advice that he often used to refer to,--who was the owner of
the biggest gambling-joint in town. (Spokane was wide open in those
days, and "some town.")

It was the society friends who seem to have saved his life, for nine
dollars did not go far, even then. I have heard his hostesses tell of
the meal he could consume. "But I'd been saving for it all day, with
just ten cents in my pocket." I met a pal of those days who used to save
Carl considerable of his nine dollars by "smooching" his wash into his
own home laundry.

About then Carl's older brother, Boyd, who was somewhat fastidious, ran
into him in Spokane. He tells how Carl insisted he should spend the
night at his room instead of going to a hotel.