asn't that I could not bear the thought of hardship; I've
taken hunting trips up into the mountains more times than I can remember,
and ate ungodly messes of my own invention, and waded waist-deep in snow
and slept under the stars, and enjoyed nearly every minute. So it wasn't
the hardships that I had every reason to expect that got me down. I think
it was the feeling that dad had turned me down; that I was in exile,
and--in his eyes, at least--disgraced, it was knowing that he thought me
pretty poor truck, without giving me a chance to be anything better.
I humped over the rail at the stern, and watched the waves slap at us
viciously, like an ill-tempered poodle, and felt for all the world like a
dog that's been kicked out into the rain. Maybe the medicine was good for
me, but it wasn't pleasant. It never occurred to me, that night, to wonder
how dad felt about it; but I've often thought of it since.

I had a section to myself, so I could sulk undisturbed; dad was not small,
at any rate, and, though he hadn't let me have his car, he meant me to be
decently comfortable. That first night I slept without a break; the second
I sat in the smoker till a most unrighteous hour, cultivating the
acquaintance of a drummer for a rubber-goods outfit. I thought that,
seeing I was about to mingle with the working classes, I couldn't begin
too soon to study them. He was a pretty good sort, too.

The rubber-goods man left me at Seattle, and from there on I was at the
tender mercies of my own thoughts and an elderly lady with a startlingly
blond daughter, who sat directly opposite me and was frankly disposed to
friendliness. I had never given much time to the study of women, and so
had no alternative but to answer questions and smile fatuously upon the
blond daughter, and wonder if I ought to warn the mother that "clothes do
not make the man," and that I was a black sheep and not a desirable
acquaintance. Before I had quite settled that point, they left the train.
I am afraid I am not distinctly a chivalrous person; I hummed the Doxology
after their retreating forms and retired into myself, with a feeling that
my own society is at times desirable and greatly to be chosen.

After that I was shy, and nothing happened except that on the last evening
of the trip, I gave up my sole remaining five dollars in the diner, and
walked out whistling softly. I was utterly and unequivocally strapped.
I went into the smoker to think it over; I knew I