THE COUNTRY BOY 147 



had paid out my last dollar for two of the 

 spunkiest gamecocks I ever saw. One of 

 them would keep a man busy, while two kept 

 me up night and day, and threatened me with 

 insanity, or something worse. I happened to 

 recall that my friend the publisher, as the 

 train pulled out of Portland, had yelled to me 

 something like this : "If you get broke down 

 there, draw on me." So I went to a bank and 

 told the cashier I wanted to draw on Ben Wat- 

 son of Portland, Oregon, for $50. "Well," 

 said the cashier, "where is your identification?" 

 "Who?" I said. "Where are your letters of 

 credit; who identifies you?" "Oh, no one; I 

 don't know anyone in New Orleans but Jack 

 Dempsey, and he is confined to his room." All 

 of my friends, the sports, had left for home 

 while I was walking the back streets with a 

 rooster under each arm. 



"Well," said the cashier, "why don't you 

 draw on him for $500? It will be just as easy 

 as drawing on him for $50, if you don't know 

 anyone here, and have no letters of credit, not 

 even a letter of introduction; I'd draw on him 

 for $5,000, if I could find a cashier that was 

 right. The best thing you can do is to step out 



