IN THE SADDLE AGAIN 175 



sion was postponed to the third Wednesday, su- 

 perstitions that seemed justified when the news 

 went broadcast on that third fatal Monday of my 

 sudden demise on the train while returning to my 

 home in Elizabeth. It was another of the party 

 who had died, my cousin, my partner in business, 

 whose name differed from mine by the middle 

 initial only. My own obituary filled pages of 

 my scrap book, but it was a sad realization of 

 my superstitious dreams. 



