To the general's request that I join in the
next dance I entered a firm refusal. I knew no dances but square
dances, so they got up an old-fashioned quadrille for me and I managed
somehow to go through it. As soon as it was over, I hurriedly escorted
my fair partner to her seat, then I quickly made my way to the barroom.
The man behind the bar appreciated my plight. He stowed me away in a
corner behind the icebox and in that corner I remained for the rest of
the evening.
Several times the general and his friends came down to "moisten up,"
and each time I heard them wondering aloud what had become of me. When
the music stopped and the party broke up I emerged from my
hiding-place. The next morning I reported to the general and explained
to him that I was going back to the sagebrush. If New York were like
Chicago, I wanted to be excused. But he insisted that I continue my
trip.
At eleven o'clock the next morning he thrust me into a Pullman car,
which was in charge of Mr. Angel, an official of the Pullman Car
Company, and was taking a private party to the East.
Two of my millionaire hunting companions, J.B. Heckscher and Colonel
Schuyler Crosby, met me at the station and drove me to the Union Club.
That night I was told to put on my evening clothes and accompany them
to a theater. Heckscher was very much disturbed when he saw the Chicago
clawhammer that had been purchased for me.
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