conventions of society. Both delighted in exquisite leisure, and spent
it in pleased acquiescence with things as they are.

Some twenty-five years before, Phelan had opened his eyes upon a
half-circle of blue sky, seen through the end of a canvas-covered wagon
on a Western prairie, and having first conceived life to be a
free-and-easy affair on a long, open road, he thereafter declined to
consider it in any other light.

The only break in his nomadic existence was when a benevolent old
gentleman found him, a friendless lad in a Nashville hospital, cursed
him through a fever, and elected to educate him. Those were years of
black captivity for Phelan, and after being crammed and coached for what
seemed an interminable time, he was proudly entered at the University,
where he promptly failed in every subject and was dropped at the
mid-year term.

The old gentleman, fortunately, was spared all disappointment in regard
to his irresponsible protégé, for he died before the catastrophe,
leaving Phelan Harrihan a legacy of fifteen dollars a month and the
memory of a kind, but misguided, old man who was not quite right in his
head.

Being thus provided with a sum more than adequate to meet all his
earthly needs, Phelan joyously abandoned the straight and narrow path of
learning, and once more betook himself to the open road.

The call of blue skies and green fields, the excitement of each day's
encounter, the dramatic possibilities of every passing incident, the
opportunity for quick and intimate fellowship, and above all an