midnight--not only going through the day coaches, but asking the
Pullman porters if such a man was aboard. I woke up more than one red-
whiskered man out of his slumbers and asked him: "Is your name Mason?"
One of them wanted to lick me for bothering him, but he laughed so
loudly when, in apologizing, I told him the reason for my search that
he woke up the whole car. I never found him this way, and not having
his address, I could only wait.

I had just about given up all hopes of getting a line on my confiding
friend when, several weeks after a letter bearing the pen marks of
many forwardings, caught me. I've got that letter; it reads this way:

"Walla Walla, Dec. 6th.

"My Dear Sir:

"I called on Mr. McPherson today and unfortunately found him out of
the city. None of his clerks seemed to know you when I presented your
request for an advance. They all began to look askance at me as if I
were a suspicious character. I ought to have put on my white necktie
and clerical look before going in, but unluckily I wore only my
common, everyday, drummer appearance.

"I got your address from a fellow wayfarer here just minute ago. My
train goes soon. I am writing you care of your house as I'm a little
leery of sending it care of your friend McPherson.

"Your order for the four now reposes in the inside pocket of my vest
amongst my firm's cash and will stand as an I. O. U. against me until
I hear from you. Even as I write, my friend Dickey, who sits at my