Mr. Worthy was a devout Methodist, a religiously just man who would not knowingly do a wrong—a wrong according to his lights. He attended prayer meeting every Thursday night. His home was a half mile south of town. On a Thursday I had two loaded cars on track. That Michael had something unusual on his mind this day there could be no doubt. He had stopped by to chat a bit with me while the cars were being loaded. He handled coal in connection with his lumber business, owned coal-bins close by, and had the grace to putter around them a bit before leaving the scene. I hung around on the fringe of the depot that night until Mr. Worthy drove by, as always, in his one-horse buggy, with lantern hanging on the dashboard. I allowed time for him to drive to his home, and a little extra—then dropped my waybills in the box. And that was the night when I should have stood vigil until the wee hours. Michael snooped. Two A. M. On the fifth morning after that shipment I got a telegram from Atchison telling me, much as a friend might ask a criminal to come in and give himself up, to go to the Josephine hotel in Holton that day and join the Grain Dealers Association. Also, there was a circus billed for Holton that day. I found Michael Worthy and Secretary E. J. Smiley at the hotel waiting for me. There was much stir about the hotel, as if a general meeting was in progress. Mr. Smiley told me that he and Mr. Worthy had a tentative contract drafted, and that I might take my girl to the circus—then I was to drop by the hotel and sign up for membership in the Association, which would cost me $12 a year, in quarterly payments. I was going to take my girl to the circus anyway. Harvey Lynn and Anna Bates, and Myrtle Mercer, were in the hotel parlor waiting for me. We had planned this even before I got that telegram. I had complimentary tickets, and we could not afford to miss the circus to parley over a contract. We four circus lovers had gone to Holton with a livery team, in an open spring wagon. After the circus, Mr. Smiley asked me if I had any objections to the contract? I told him that inasmuch as I was being pushed in with scant knowledge of what it was all about, and that in deference to my friends in Atchison who were urging me to get in PDQ, that I would sign on the dotted line—and trust to luck. It seemed to be Mr. Worthy’s field day, and he would have had his own way, anyhow. It looked as if it might rain, and I did not want to waste time quibbling over the matter. If need be, I would gladly forego shipping altogether for the life of the contract—which was six months, with renewal privilege — rather than get my friends in trouble.