Mike detailed the experience with his usual animation. “‘Hey, Mister Bud,’ I say, ‘if you going to send me down canyon, I want to get my things.’ ‘You go to hell for your things,’ says he. And then I say, ‘Mister Bud, I want to get my time.’ And he says, ‘I give you plenty time right here!’ And he punch me and throw me over. Then he grab me up’ again and pull me outside, and I see big automobile waiting, and I say, ‘Holy Judas! I get ride in automobile! Here I am, old fellow fifty-seven years old, never been in automobile ride all my days. I think always I die and never get in automobile ride!’ We go down canyon, and I look round and see them mountains, and feel nice cool wind in my face, and I say, ‘Bully for you, Mister Bud, I don’t never forget this automobile. I don’t have such good time any day all my life.’ And he say, ‘Shut your face, you old wop!’ Then we come out on prairie, we go up in Black Hills, and they stop, and say, ‘Get out here, you sons o’ guns.’ And they leave us there all alone. They say, ‘You come back again, we catch you and we rip the guts out of you!’ They go away fast, and we got to walk seven hours, us fellers, before we come to a house! But I don’t mind that, I begged some grub, and then I got job mending track; only I don’t find out if you get out of jail, and I think maybe I lose my buddy and never see him no more.” Here the old man stopped, gazing affectionately at Hal. “I write you letter to North Valley, but I don’t hear nothing, and I got to walk all the way on railroad track to look for you.” How was it? Hal wondered. He had encountered naked horror in this coal-country--yet here he was, not entirely glad at the thought of leaving it! He would miss Old Mike Sikoria, his hairy kiss and his grizzly-bear hug! He struck the old man dumb by pressing a twenty-dollar bill into his hand. Also he gave him the address of Edstrom and Mary, and a note to Johann Hartman, who might use him to work among the Slovaks who came down into the town. Hal explained that he had to go back to Western City that night, but that he would never forget his old friend, and would see that he had a good job. He was trying to figure out some occupation for the old man on his father’s country-place. A pet grizzly! Train-time came, and the long line of dark sleepers rolled in by the depot-platform. It was late--after midnight; but, nevertheless, there was Old Mike. He was in awe of Hal now, with his fine clothes and his twenty-dollar bills; but, nevertheless, under stress of his emotion, he gave him one more hug, and one more hairy kiss. “Good-bye, my buddy!” he cried. “You come back, my buddy! I don’t forget my buddy!” And when the train began to move, he waved his ragged cap, and ran along the platform to get a last glimpse, to call a last farewell. When Hal turned into the car, it was with more than a trace of moisture in his eyes. POSTSCRIPT