And a week later Tom kept his promise. He and Sidney escorted Sam to the train, Tom carrying the traveller’s old-fashioned yellow leather valise and Sid his raincoat, leaving Sam the free use of both hands with which to satisfy himself every two or three moments that his ticket was safe. There was one excruciating minute when they reached Locust Street, and were in sight of the station, when Sam couldn’t find the ticket in any of his pockets and blank dismay overspread his countenance. He was on the verge of retracing his steps when Sidney patiently reminded him that just one block back he had placed the precious pasteboard in the lining of his straw hat for safe-keeping. Sam said, “Oh!” and looked extremely foolish, and, amidst the laughter of his guard of honour, the journey began again. News of Sam’s departure had spread through town and there was quite a gathering of friends to see him off. Buster Healey was there, with a bouquet consisting of two sprays of gladiolus, mostly in bud, which Buster was suspected of having acquired by the simple expedient of reaching through someone’s garden fence; and Tommy Hughes was there, and Joe Kenny, and half a dozen more; and there was a good deal of noise and rough-house until the train pulled into the station and Sam climbed aboard. You might have thought that Sam was leaving for the Grand Tour or for a year in Darkest Africa. All kinds of advice was showered on him. He was instructed not to put his head out the window, not to speak to strangers, not to take any wooden money, and not to lose his ticket. Then the train moved and a cheer went up and a much embarrassed Sam waved good-bye from a window. And at that moment Buster discovered that Sam had left his flowers on a baggage truck, and rescued them and raced the length of the platform before he was finally able to hurl them in at the window. So began the journey. CHAPTER III “THE WIGWAM”