O . H e n r y
“You were successful in the West, weren’t you?” asked the cop.
“I surely was! I hope Jimmy has done half as well. He was a slow
mover. I’ve had to fight for my success. In New York a man doesn’t
change much. In the West you learn how to fight for what you get.”
The cop took a step or two.
“I’ll go on my way,” he said. “I hope your friend comes all right.
If he isn’t here at ten, are you going to leave?”
“I am not!” said the other. “I’ll wait half an hour, at least. If Jimmy
is alive on earth, he’ll be here by that time. Good night, officer.”
“Good night,” said the cop, and walked away, trying doors as he
went.
There was now a cold rain falling and the wind was stronger. The
few people walking along that street were hurrying, trying to keep
warm. And at the door of the shop stood the man who had come a
thousand miles to meet a friend. Such a meeting could not be certain.
But he waited.
About twenty minutes he waited, and then a tall man in a long
coat came hurrying across the street. He went directly to the waiting
man.
“Is that you, Bob?” he asked, doubtfully.
“Is that you, Jimmy Wells?” cried the man at the door.
The new man took the other man’s hands in his. “It’s Bob! It sure-
ly is. I was certain I would find you here if you were still alive. Twenty
years is a long time. The old restaurant is gone, Bob. I wish it were here,
so that we could have another dinner in it. Has the West been good to
you?”
“It gave me everything I asked for. You’ve changed, Jimmy. I never
thought you were so tall.”
“Oh, I grew a little after I was twenty.”
“Are you doing well in New York, Jimmy?”
“Well enough. I work for the city. Come on, Bob, We’ll go to a
place I know, and have a good long talk about old times.”
The two men started along the street, arm in arm. The man from
the West was beginning to tell the story of his life. The other, with his
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