He went away and Chew Chee insisted that I go with him and meet his “cousins.” We walked across the city to a laundry where I was royally received. Chew Chee was the only Chinese that had a word of English, but the party was a success anyway. They produced their finest liquor, their lichee nuts, their daintiest cakes, and choicest tea. The hop layout was spread, and Chew Chee rolled and toasted me a pill that I smoked just by way of being a sociable, good fellow. The pill made me drowsy. A bunk was prepared and I slept out the night peacefully and safely in the midst of my friends. I bade Chew Chee good-by in the morning, and never saw him again. That night, having nothing else to do, I went down to the China store. The boss had my letter ready. I thanked him for it, and putting it in my pocket gave it no further thought. And yet that letter snatched me clear of the law’s clutches on a night when I was caught in a burglary, overpowered, hog-tied, and waiting for “the wagon.” I marvel to this day I did not quit my stealing right then and there. I had all the best of it. I had escaped a sure conviction and sentence. I could have returned to the “American side” and the Canadian authorities would have given me good riddance. Yet the thought of turning to the right, squaring myself, and starting anew never entered my mind. Probably youthful egotism, which is nothing but confidence born of ignorance, whispered to me that I could beat a game I knew to be wrong and full of dangers. So without stopping to cast up accounts or take stock, I blithely looked about me for fresh endeavors. My money was fast dwindling, more must be had; and nightly I prowled the town with the single purpose of locating anything I could do by myself. It’s difficult to explain to a layman the pride of a professional thief. Nevertheless he must have pride or he would steal his clothes, beat his board bills, and borrow money with no thought of repaying it. He doesn’t do those things day after day, but day after day he takes chances and is proud that he can keep his end up and pay for the things he needs. All wrong, of course, but there it is. If I had had brains enough to grease a griddle, I would have taken a hundred dollars from the boss Chinaman in the matter of Chew Chee and gone off somewhere, got a job, and tried to do the right thing by myself and others. But no, I was a journeyman; I had served a long and careful apprenticeship; professional pride—I don’t know what else to call it—would not permit me to take the Chinaman’s money for rescuing him from our common enemy, the law, and I went out to get money in my own way.