had been holding hands for half an hour, and we hadn’t spoken a word. Finally, turning to me, he said:
“Homer, I feel like the old farmer, and I guess you do, who was on his death-bed, when they sent for the minister. The old farmer hadn’t been a church member in his day, hadn’t given much thought to religion or the hereafter. When the preacher asked him as the family stood close around, if he wouldn’t like to make his peace with God, he said, ‘No, I don’t see as there is any use, we ain’t never had any fuss.’”
So, as the grip of our hands grew stronger, he said, “Homer, we’ve never had any fuss, so we can part peacefully.”
On the train my valise attracted attention, and a crowd of drummers gathered around it. They asked me where I was going, and I told them to San Francisco. They asked me where I got the valise and I told them, and I saw a few of them take down the storekeeper’s name that sold it. Finally one of them said, after I had told them my name: “Mr. Davenport, I don’t think you appreciate the opening there is for you or anybody else in
