, Esqr.,
At the Queen Hotel.
Arrived from Albany, N. Y.

CHAPTER X

I CUT LOOSE

I nodded; rebuffing his attentive eyes I stuffed the envelope into my
pantaloons pocket.

"Good-bye, sir."

"Good luck. When you come back remember the Queen."

"I'll remember the Queen," said I; and with the envelope smirching my
flesh I stepped out, holding my head as high as though my pockets
contained something of more value.

The events of yesterday had hardened, thank Heaven; and so had I, into an
obstinacy that defied this mocking Western country. I was down to the
ground and was going to scratch. To make for home like a whipped dog,
there to hang about, probably become an invalid and die resistless, was
unthinkable. Already the Far West air and vigor had worked a change in me.
In the fresh morning I felt like a fighting cock, or a runner recruited by
a diet of unbolted flour and strong red meat.

The falsity of the life here I looked upon as only an incident. The gay
tawdry had faded; I realized how much more enduring were the rough,
uncouth but genuine products like my friend Mr. Jenks and those of that
ilk, who spoke me well instead of merely fair. Health of mind and body
should be for me. Hurrah!

But the note! It could have been sent by only one person--the
superscription, dainty and feminine, betrayed it. That woman was still
pursuing me. How she had found out my name I did not know; perhaps from
the label on my bag, perhaps through the hotel register. I did not recall
having exchanged names with her--she never had proffered her own name. At
all events she appeared determined to keep a hold upon me, and that was
disgusting.

Couldn't she understand that I was no longer a fool--that I had wrenched
absolutely loose from her and that she could do nothing with me? So in
wrath renewed by her poor estimate of my common sense I was minded to tear
the note to fragments, unread, and contemptuously scatter them. Had she
been present I should have done so, to show her.

Being denied the satisfaction I saw no profit in wasting that modicum of
spleen, when I might double it by deliberately reading her effusion and
knowingly casting it into the dust. One always can make excuses to
oneself, for curiosity. Consequently I halted, around a corner in this
exhausted Benton; tore the envelope open with gingerly touch. The folded
paper within contained a five-dollar bank note.

T