PAINTED ROCK
I took my gun, which I hedn't carried on board the ship, and loaded her and shoved her in my hip-pocket, and out I goes. It was nigh on to nine o'clock then, and the clurk in the office seeing me going out, says, 'Don't lose your way, sir,' and I says, 'D'ye think I'm a tender-foot, sonny?' But I forgave him. I went into the Strand, and sure enough I knew I was a tender-foot. Charlie here useter let on about the Strand and moan over it some, sayin' that Painted Rock was dull to it in spite of occasional gunning matches: I tell you here, Charlie was right. It was gay and lighted and busy as if the hull world was there. And ladies came up and spoke to me kindly, saying they could see I was a stranger, and I said, 'Not so strange ez that, ma'am,' and I bowed myself off and wandered threw Trafalgar Square, very hunky with fountains and a monument to some Englishman that fought in the wars. It was a real gay old monument, with lions to it handsome as paint, but not like any I ever see in books, and certainly not like our 'cougars.' And ez I went several strangers spoke to me,
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