"Don't make any difference," said the other coldly. "Enter through the niggers' gate," and pointed to the rear. Wyeth tore down there, but it was closed and locked. He gave up. Aboard the train was his luggage, while he must stand and see it go on without him, simply for the sake of a rule, that Negroes and whites cannot walk through the same gate. He was disgusted over such an occurrence, and stood watching his train disappear. It had gone well toward the end of the yards, when it came to a stop, while the locomotive attached thereto, whistled two or three times. Another man came to the gate, and Wyeth said to him: "I'm traveling on that train. Can I not pass through this gate and catch it?" He was permitted to, and breathed a deep drawn sigh. As he passed the fop who kept him back, he gave him a look, and wished they were both in the _Rosebud Country_ at that moment.... A waiter, who had seen him go into the station, had the vestibule of the diner open, and it was through this he entered, as he caught the moving train. "I knew you would get balled up!" he exclaimed. "I saw your controversy at the gate.... And wasn't surprised, for you see, this is a _white man's country_." Thereupon he smiled a hard, dry smile. Wyeth passed forward to the Jim Crow car, and forgot the incident, for it was best so. They had now come into the greater city, and he got off. "Where can good accommodations be had here?" he inquired of the porter. "Want a place to stop?" His face lightened perceptibly. "If you will wait until I get through--say ten or fifteen minutes--I'll carry you to a good place," he said, and Sidney waited. He sat in the waiting room listening to the noise without. About the four sides of the wall, sat many little girls--that is, girls. They smiled upon him, and made immodest advances. He wondered at it, but then he recalled that this was supposed to be the most profligate town in our states. He paid little attention to them. Others entered, and they smiled upon them also. Presently the porter appeared, clothing changed, and dressed neatly. Several of the girls gathered about him, and said many foolish things. He smiled upon some of them, while he told others to go to the devil; and still others he told to go to----but we will stop here. And then they told him he could go there, too. They left then, and Wyeth and he walked up a street that was the widest, he felt certain, that he had ever seen. "Where are you from?" inquired the porter. Wyeth told him; whereupon the other whistled. "That's a long way from here. How do you like these parts?" Wyeth didn't answer the last; but to the first he said: "Yes, a long way," and fell silent. "Ever been here before?" said the porter. "Twelve years and more ago." "See quite a difference now, eh?" "I was not here long enough to see what there was in the beginning."