believer in Governor Pennoyer, and that was my only chance for getting any money. I showed the editor Governor Pennoyer’s letter and told him I was almost starving in a great city like New Orleans. The editor looked thoughtfully for a moment, more thoughtful than editors generally look, then he handed me a blank draft and asked me if I would fill it out.
I took the pen, asked him the day of the month and I think the year; he told me and then there was a long pause. I had to tell him that I couldn’t fill it out. He laughed and said, “Young man, you just saved your bacon. If you had filled in that, I wouldn’t have paid a cent. But,” he said, “I’ll take a chance for fifty.” So the editor filled it out and I signed it and he endorsed it, and the bank cashier paid me $50.
I felt so thankful that I offered to give the editor one of the roosters that I had at the St. Charles, but he declined with thanks. I bade him an affectionate good-bye and in five hours was aboard the train for Portland, Oregon, with an alligator, two gamecocks and sketches of a championship fight, and in five days was
