they stopped and the old man began to beg money of the passers-by, and
Johnson turned his back on his companion and looked off down the
street, proudly pretending that they weren't together. If any one gave
the old man money Johnson took it at once and it disappeared somewhere
inside his blanket. Johnson and his prime minister, we used to call
the combination. But Johnson would n't beg for himself. Oh, no! He
was too proud. It's a fact, I never knew or heard of Johnson Sides
himself asking for money. But he kept his prime minister trotting
around for several weeks, and he never let go the string or let the old
fellow keep a two-bit piece.

"But Johnson was reformed at last; and it was the power of the press
that did it. Talk about the press as a moral agent! Why, bless your
soul, when one newspaper can reform a whole Piute Indian and make a man
of him--well, the question's settled, then and there, and the pulpit
and the platform ain't in it after that.

"We did n't try to reform him--in fact, we 'd rather have kept him as
he was at first. He was more amusing. But the aspirations of
Johnson's soul were too much for us. I used to give him money
sometimes--he was sure to do something if he got drunk that was worth
writing up--and so he got into the habit of coming to our newspaper
office whenever he felt the need of more cash. He did n't ask for
anything, and he always made you feel that he was doing you a great
favor in accepting any stray chicken-feed you might have about your
clothes. He just sat around like a bronzed and blanketed statue of
Caesar, or Alexander, or Napoleon Bonaparte. Not one of the whole lot
of them ever looked more as if he owned the whole earth than Johnson
did after he 'd sat there three hours waiting for somebody to give him
two bits or a chew of tobacco.