Pocatello boasted of two lawyers, brothers. One prosecuted cases in the magistrate’s court, and the other defended anybody foolish enough to hire him. Salt Chunk Mary sent the defender over to see us the next day. He hadn’t influence enough to have us brought to his office, so he talked to us through the calaboose-door wicket. We were not going to waste any money on him. We decided to wait and see if we needed a lawyer first. George thanked him for coming, told him we had done nothing, and didn’t need an attorney. Every day for a week we were taken out and questioned. At the end of that time, having exhausted their stock of questions and patience, the marshal and his deputy had us into the justice’s court charged with vagrancy. In ten minutes we were tried, convicted, and sentenced to six months each in the county jail at Blackfoot. No matter how small the town is, somebody can be found to fix things. Mary was on the job and got the town fixer to “see the judge.” He consented to suspend the sentences if we would get out of the town and stay out, warning us that if we ever came back we would automatically start serving our time. We went over to Mary’s to get out of sight till train-time, and find out what had caused our arrest. Soldier Johnnie had not appeared at her place. He folded his tent and stole away with other members of the convention, and so precarious was the life we led that it was fifteen years till I saw him again. All Mary had gathered was that the marshal, noting the scarcity of bums about town, had gone down to the jungle, where he found a dead man sprawled beside a burnt-out fire. Searching the jungle further, he came upon poor old Montana Blacky, raving mad. He was taken in and later sent to an asylum. He was the only bum in Pocatello the day after the convention’s tragic close. We never knew what caused our arrest, but surmised that Blacky in his ravings might have named George as the killer. When our train pulled out, the marshal was there to see that we got aboard and to ascertain where we were going. We foiled him by neglecting to buy tickets, and at the same time saved ourselves money by paying a hungry conductor half fare cash to ride us into Butte. There I began my apprenticeship at the dangerous and fascinating business of breaking open safes. As was proper, I did all the fetching and carrying. I stole the dan, bought the drills, got railroad time-tables, and guidebooks. I was sent out to make the preliminary survey of the “spot” George had designs on. I reported to him whether the spot was “flopped” in. I looked up the getaway, the all-important thing. No place is fat enough to tempt unless some feasible getaway can be figured out.