Jinks that was the truth: that
rascally real-estate owner wasn't nothing but a flim-flammer.

At first I couldn't believe that the block he had showed me over didn't
belong to him; but when I did I was ready to wreak vengeance. The
lawyer said that wreakin' vengeance wasn't a thing that paid in city
life, but that if I ever met up with that flim-flammer I could scare a
lot of money out of him. My lawyer was a purty good sort of a feller,
after all, an' he gave me a lot of high-class advice. He told me that
it might be years before my case came up, an' that the' wasn't any use
of me waitin' around for it. Then he talked about business, an' he an'
Sandy Fergoson had about the same ideas of it, though they used
different words. He told me that it was all right for a boy to start in
in some old business an' learn the trade, but that the thing for a man
to do was to get a start in a smaller town, an' then after he'd learned
the ropes to come to the big town an' cut things wide open.

The more I thought over this the better it looked to me; but I hardly
knew where to start in. Then the thought struck me that about the best
business move I could make was to go to Los Angeles an' scare enough
money out of the flim-flammer to give me a good start in some little
business of my own. My board bein' out an' my cash bein' likewise, I
had to travel on foot; but as my back was pointed toward Frisco, I
didn't mind that much.

I trudged along for several days, an' the' was enough people along the
line to welcome me to my meals, so I begun to get more resigned to
bein' a human again. The farther I got from Frisco the nearer I got to
Los Angeles, an' though I was some anxious to meet up with the
flim-flammer, I finally began to doubt if he was worth the bother, an'
besides, he might not be there anyway.

I was beginnin' to get good an' sick of business; an' I was more than
convinced that gettin' a feller's own consent to engage in it wasn't
the hardest step he'd ever have to take. Wayside friends was beginnin'
to get mighty scarce, an' I was feelin' lonesome above the average one
mornin', when I came to a pause in front of one o' these little
six-acre ranches where they raise lawn grass an' fresh air. It was a
purty, restful sort of a place, with a double row of trees leadin' up
to the house, an' somethin' seemed to be drawin' me in at the front
gate, although I couldn't smell any food cookin', either. I only waited
about a minute, an'