B did not find A. He did not really search for him until Back Bay was
passed and the train was on the first leg of its journey, with the next
stop at Providence. Then it was that A was not to be found. Then B
realized that his side partner had missed the train. He dropped into a
corner and searched his own pockets. A battered quarter and three
pennies came to view--and the fare from Boston to Providence is ninety
cents!

Then it was that the initiative of a well-trained Pullman porter came
into play. He had stood over the distressed B while he was making an
inventory of his resources.

"Done los' something, boss?" said the autocrat of the car.

B told the black man his story in a quick, straightforward manner; and
the black man looked into his eyes. B returned the glance. Perhaps he
saw in that honest ebony face something of the expression of the
faithful servants of wartime who refused to leave their masters even
after utter ruin had come upon them. The porter drew forth a fat roll of
bills.

"Ah guess dat, ef you-all'll give meh yo' business cyard, Ah'll be able
to fee-nance yo' trip dis time."

To initiative the black man was adding intuition. He had studied his
man. He was forever using his countless opportunities to study men. It
was not so much of a gamble as one might suppose.

A pretty well-known editor was saved from a mighty embarrassing time;