In an hour he had them out of their settings, which I threw away as before. He went to his room for his few belongings. I threw mine in a bag and we met at the ferry where we got a boat to Oakland, leaving nothing behind us but the hotel keys I had made with such pains and trouble. The theft was not reported in the papers. There may be a record of it in the police archives, for all I know. “I can’t explain their silence,” said Sanc. “This much is certain, and it’s the worst part of this business of ours. Some innocent party is going to ride the blame. They will never figure that as an outside caper.” The next day we got an eastbound train and in due time found ourselves in the town of Pocatello, the stronghold of Salt Chunk Mary. Our knock at her door was answered by a young and pretty Swedish girl, blue-eyed and fair-haired. In answer to our call for Mary she laughed and her big, innocent blue eyes danced. “Aye tank you have bad luck. Miss Mary she bane on big yamboree.” We went downtown and rented a room. In Pocatello, as in every other Western town in those days, it was the correct custom and usage for sporting people to go on a big jamboree once or twice a year. A jamboree was usually preceded by a run of good or bad luck. If the celebrant got hold of a bunch of easy money he or she “went on a tear” to celebrate the good luck. If the luck got too bad, the way to change it was to go out and get drunk. The length of these celebrations was determined by the size of the party’s bankroll or the strength of his constitution. Salt Chunk Mary’s bankroll had no bottom, and her constitution was flawless. So it followed that her periods of relaxation were somewhat extended. Being a very positive-minded person, inclining to action rather than words, her procedure at these times differed greatly from the ordinary. When she “went on a toot” the town marshal went fishing or hunting, and her more timid business rivals closed their places and remained in a state of siege like storekeepers in Chinatown when a tong war was declared. It was her custom to visit her friends’ places first, where friendships were renewed and emphasized by much spending and drinking, and where obligations were acknowledged and discharged promptly. She poured liquor into the bums, beggars, ragtags, and bobtails that hung around the saloons till they were legless drunk, and unable to follow her triumphal march through the town. She never let up for the want of money, nor because of inability to “carry her licker.” Her jamboree closed when she had “made” the last place in town and that was always the joint of some one she held a grudge against.