o arrive in Kansas City that Billy
earned a hand-out from a restaurant keeper in a small town by doing some
odd jobs for the man. The food he gave Billy was wrapped in an old copy
of the Kansas City Star. When Billy reached camp he tossed the package
to Bridge, who, in addition to his honorable post as poet laureate, was
also cook. Then Billy walked down to the stream, near-by, that he might
wash away the grime and sweat of honest toil from his hands and face.

As Bridge unwrapped the package and the paper unfolded beneath his eyes
an article caught his attention--just casually at first; but presently
to the exclusion of all else. As he read his eyebrows alternated
between a position of considerable elevation to that of a deep frown.
Occasionally he nodded knowingly. Finally he glanced up at Billy who was
just rising from his ablutions. Hastily Bridge tore from the paper the
article that had attracted his interest, folded it, and stuffed it into
one of his pockets--he had not had time to finish the reading and he
wanted to save the article for a later opportunity for careful perusal.

That evening Bridge sat for a long time scrutinizing Billy through
half-closed lids, and often he found his eyes wandering to the red ring
about the other's wrist; but whatever may have been within his thoughts
he kept to himself.

It was noon when the two sauntered into Kansas City. Billy had a
dollar in his pocket--a whole dollar. He had earned it assisting an
automobilist out of a ditch.

"We'll have a swell feed," he had confided to Bridge, "an' sleep in a
bed just to learn how much nicer it is sleepin' out under the black sky
and the shiny little stars."

"You're a profligate, Billy," said Bridge.

"I dunno what that means," said Billy; "but if it's something I
shouldn't be I probably am."

The two went to a rooming-house of which Bridge knew, where they could
get a clean room with a double bed for fifty cents. It was rather a high
price to pay, of course, but Bridge was more or less fastidious, and
he admitted to Billy that he'd rather sleep in the clean dirt of the
roadside than in the breed of dirt one finds in an unclean bed.

At the end of the hall was a washroom, and toward this Bridge made his
way, after removing his coat and throwing it across the foot of the
bed. After he had left the room Billy chanced to notice a folded bit of
newspaper on the floor beneath Bridge's coat. He picked it up to lay
it on the little tab