But he was an easy winner in that race. The
riots were over, however, before they had begun, and perhaps
a greater calamity was averted. It was the only time I was ever
under fire, except once when a crazy man came into Mulberry Street
years after and pointed a revolver at the reporters. I regret to
say that I gave no better account of myself then, and for a man
who was so hot to go to war I own it is a bad showing. Perhaps it
was as well I didn't go, even on that account. I might have run
the wrong way when it came to the scratch.
We were not yet done suffering undeserved indignities on that trip,
for when we got as far as Stanhope, on the Morris and Essex road,
our money had given out. I offered the station-master my watch as
security for the price of two tickets to New York, but he bestowed
only a contemptuous glance upon it and remarked that there were
a good many fakirs running about the country palming off "snide"
gold watches on people. Our lantern outfit found no more favor with
him, and we were compelled to tramp it to the village in Schooley's
Mountains where my wife was then summering with our baby.
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