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I left New York Oct. 25, 1912, with
"Frisco Spot, a fox terrier, for com
panion, and walked across the con
tinent to San Francisco, arriving July
16, 1913 three weeks too late to win
a scholarship in the Pulitzer School
of Journalism, offered by my uncle as
an incentive to make the trip in eight
months. Illness, caused by exposure,
I traversed 14 states, enduring
hardships such as fall to the lot of
few, and lost my way only once.
Starting without a cent, I liad $19
tossed to me by my well-wishers be
fore I left New York. I paid my way
by selling postcards of myself.
Henry Danes, a bosom friend, had
accompanied me from New York. In
Pittsburgh we both fell In love with
the same girl Eva Hallam. We de
cided on a walking race to St Louis
along separate routes, the winner to
marry the girl,
I chose the old Cumberland Pike.
With lacerated feet, the blood oozing
out of my shoes and completely ex
hausted, I entered St. Louis, confi
dent I had won, only to find Harry
Danes serenely awaiting my arrival.
After notifying Miss Hallam, we
continued the journey west Sudden
ly Danes mocking blurted out what I,
had all along suspected-he had
When the smoke of battle cleared
we were occupying adjoining cells In
a St. Louis jail!
Spot did not appreciate his sur
roundings and howled until the po
lice released us probably to get rid
of the din !
Danes returned home and Spot and
I continued on westward. '
Through the St. Louis papers Miss
Hallam learned how Danes had won-.
In Jefferson City, Mo., .1 received a
letter containing her promise to mar
ry me. '
On the south shore Df. the Missouri
river I waded knee deep through mud
and water and crossed the Gasconade
river on an ice floe.
Here I met people who didn't know
that the Civil War was ovej, and were
apprehensive of raids by Quantrell's
Guerillas and the James' and Younger
Brothers' outlaw bands!
I arrived at Kansas City in three
months. Here I had ptomaine pois
oning. Under the auspices of the National
Old Trails Road Association I follow
ed the historic Santa Fe trail, accom
panied by Bill Brown, Alaska mail
driver, and his team of wolves and
dogs, encountering arctic weather
and nearly losing my life in a blizzard
on the Kansas prairies.
I had a fearful trip through the
Royal Gorge and across the Rockies
to Cripple Creek, Here I went down
a mining shaft 1,100 feet
A short cut through the South
Cheyenne canyon enabled me to beat
a passenger train of the Cripple
Creek Short Line.
After failing to scale Pike's Peak,
I spent week in Denver resting up.
I followed the Union Pacific
through Wyoming to Utah and on the
Mormon trail I passed Pulpit Rock,
where Brigham Young preached his
first sermon in Utah.
Distances are deceiving on the
desert. Intending to follow the moun
tains in Nevada for what seemed only
ten miles to Humboldt canyon, the
scene of Mark Twain's former activi
ties, I left the only safe' route the
Three days later I was found half
naked with the little fox terrier
clutched in my arms, staggering
along with swollen, blackened lips
and protruding tongue, unable to
I entered San San Francisco with
just three dollars.
On my tramp I wore out nine pairs
of shoes, 24 extra, soles, five suits,
countless pairs of socks, suits of un
derclothes and shirts. There were
many days without food, many nightp
without shelter, and for every kind
ness there were scores of unfriendly
acts. Nevertheless; I've had expe
rience of priceless value, which mora.