I broke him and said,
"Hello, Ned Kingsbury, where did you come from?"
"You've got the wrong man this time, sonny, my name is Pillsbury," he
replied.
"Oh! come off. I'd know that combination of yours if I heard it in
Halifax. Didn't you work at Sweeping Water, Nebraska, some time ago, and
didn't you have some kind of a queer smash up there?"
Then he 'fessed up and said he had recognized my stuff as soon as he
heard it, but hadn't said anything in hopes I wouldn't twig him.
"Don't give me away, old chap. I'm flying the flag now and have lost all
my former brashness."
I never did.
CHAPTER IX
BILL BRADLEY, GAMBLER AND GENTLEMAN
Telegraphers are, as a rule, a very nomadic class, wandering hither and
thither like a chip buffeted about on the ocean. Their pathway is not
always one of roses, and many times their feet are torn by the jagged
rocks of adversity. I was no different from any of the rest, neither
better nor worse, and many a night I have slept with only the deep blue
sky for a covering, and it may be added--sotto voce--it is not a very
warm blanket on a cold night.
Pages:
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310