whose hand seemed strangely cold, as if he were suffering from
a chill, and whose whiskers were sparse and silky.

"And Mr. Ends, Mr. Eden. Mr. Ends is our business manager, you know."

Martin found himself shaking hands with a cranky-eyed, bald-headed man,
whose face looked youthful enough from what little could be seen of it,
for most of it was covered by a snow-white beard, carefully trimmed--by
his wife, who did it on Sundays, at which times she also shaved the back
of his neck.

The three men surrounded Martin, all talking admiringly and at once,
until it seemed to him that they were talking against time for a wager.

"We often wondered why you didn't call," Mr. White was saying.

"I didn't have the carfare, and I live across the Bay," Martin answered
bluntly, with the idea of showing them his imperative need for the money.

Surely, he thought to himself, my glad rags in themselves are eloquent
advertisement of my need. Time and again, whenever opportunity offered,
he hinted about the purpose of his business. But his admirers' ears were
deaf. They sang his praises, told him what they had thought of his story
at first sight, what they subsequently thought, what their wives and
families thought; but not one hint did they breathe of intention to pay
him for it.

"Did I tell you how I first read your story?" Mr. Ford said. "Of course
I didn't. I was coming west from New York, and when the train stopped at
Ogden, the train-boy on the new run brought aboard the current number of
the Transcontinental."

My God! Martin thought; you can travel in a Pullman while I starve for
the paltry five dollars you owe me. A wave of anger rushed over him. The
wrong done him by the Transcontinental loomed colossal, for strong upon
him were all the dreary months of vain yearning, of hunger and privation,
and his present hunger awoke and gnawed at him, reminding him that he had
eaten nothing since the day before, and little enough then. For the
moment he saw red. These creatures were not even robbers. They were
sneak-thieves. By lies and broken promises they had tricked him out of
his story. Well, he would show them. And a great resolve surged into
his will to the effect that he would not leave the office until he got
his money. He remembered, if he did not get it, that there was no way
for him to go back to Oakland. He controlled himself with an effort, but
not before the wolfish expression of his face had awed and