of leaving was almost too much—the bread crumbs would hang to my 
lips and my fork would fail to hold my food, and every other darned 
thing seemed to go wrong. It was, in fact, the most miserable week 
of my life. 
The day finally came when I had to leave. I shook hands all 
around, leaving Nettie until last; that was the hardest part, but I 
bravely gave her a hearty handshake though I know she could never 
have forgotten the look I could not keep out of my eyes. 
Mr. Earnhart took me to Cairo with his horse and buggy; it was 
about a half day’s drive and was about noon when we reached there. 
We took the horse to a livery stable and then went to the hotel for 
our dinners. Mr. Earnhart wanted to extend me this last hospitality 
of giving me a nice dinner, but I insisted on having the honor of 
paying for it myself, as it was our farewell dinner. 
After dinner we went back to the stable for the horses as Mr. 
Earnhart had to start right back. As he stepped into the buggy and 
turning put his hand out to shake mine; he looked me squarely in 
the eye and said, “Good-by, my boy.” A deep flush spread over his 
face and the white of his eyes showed red. but without another word 
he clicked to his horse and was off. I stood watching him until he 
turned the bend and then I turned toward the hotel, feeling for the 
first time that I had won my fight which had indeed been a hard one. 
I inquired of the hotel clerk at once as to the schedule of the 
Mississippi steamboats and found the next one would leave at 3 :3G. 
I hurried around and purchased a ticket; at last I was off for the 
happy hunting ground. We w T ere several days on the river as the 
river was low and the boat only ran during the day, but when the 
boat did finally arrive in Arkansas City and the stage plank was 
swung, I was ready, grip in hand, to land on Arkansas soil. I made 
one dash to the end of the stage plank and jumped and as I struck 
the ground I went into mud above my knees. Everybody in sight 
began to laugh at the Tennessee greenhorn. I pulled first one foot 
and then the other out of that sticky Arkansas mud until I reached 
sound footing. My grip looked like a ball of mud and I looked like 
a hog that had been wallowing in a muclhole. I took off my hat and 
waved it at the laughing crowd and then picked up a shingle and 
tried to scrape off the mud as best I could and started for the main 
part of town. 
Arkansas City consisted of one main street; the sidewalks were 
built like a bridge about 10 feet above the ground and all the build¬ 
ings were of rough lumber, or logs, and they also were built on stilts 
or piling. 
I walked on up the street until I came to a saloon, rooming and 
boarding house combined. I walked in and called for a drink. There 
were two Arkansas boozers near the bar so I invited them to take a 
drink with me, which they accepted. One of them says, “Stranger, 
whare are ye from?” I told them I w T as from Tennessee. Thev then 
made a remark about the mud all over my clothes and I told them 
how it came there. They laughed heartily and said, “Yes, you Ten- 
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