"You're right! I hope Jimmy has done half as well. He was a kind of slow man, though, good fellow as he was. I've had to compete with some of the sharpest brains going to get my money. A man gets stuck in New York. It takes the West to make a man really keen."
The policeman swung his club and took a step or two.

"I'll be on my way. Hope your friend comes around all right. Are you going to leave immediately?"
"I should say not!" said the other. "I'll give him half an hour at least. If Jimmy is alive on earth he'll be here by that time. So long, officer."
"Good night, sir," said the policeman, passing on along his beat.

There was now a fine, cold rain falling, and the wind had risen to a steady blow. The few foot passengers in that quarter hurried dismally and silently along with coat collars turned high and pocketed hands. And in the door of the hardware store the man who had come a thousand miles to fill an appointment, with the friend of his youth, smoked his cigar and waited.