* * * * *
I reached Rochester safely. It was on the stretch to Buffalo that I paid
dearly for being well-dressed and carrying a suitcase ... as I lay
asleep on the floor of the box-car I was set upon by three tramps, who
pinioned my arms and legs before I was even fully awake. I was forced to
strip off my clothes, after wrestling and fighting as hard as I could. I
floated off into the stars from a blow on the head....
When I came to, I was trembling violently both with cold and from the
nervous shock. My assailants had made off with my suitcase ... I was in
nothing but my B.V.D.'s and shirt. Even my Keats had been stolen. But
beside me I found the ragged, cast-off suit of one of the tramps ... and
my razor, which had dropped out of my coat pocket, while the tramp had
changed clothes, and not been noticed. Gingerly, I put on the ragged
suit....
* * * * *
I stood in front of the Eos Artwork Studios.
I saw a boy coming down the path from one of the buildings.
"Would you tell me please where I can find the Master?" I asked,
reverently.
The boy gave me a long stare.
"Oh, you mean Mr. Spalton?"
"Yes."
"That's him ... there ... choppin' wood."
There was a young man and an older one, both chopping wood, in the back
of a building, but in fairly open view.
I walked to where they worked with both inward and outward trepidation,
for, to me, Spalton was one of the world's great men.
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