The Southwestern Historical Quarterly, Volume 50, July 1946 - April, 1947 Page: 34
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Southwestern Historical Quarterly
what to do. I had a pair of old overalls that I had not worn in
some time hanging out in front of the tent on a pine tree. My
mind groping, I thought I would feel in the pockets to see what
I could find. I found a nickel. There was a baker shop a half
mile or so away, and for this I headed. When I came in smell-
ing distance of the shop, the odor of bread baking drove me a
bit wild. I walked in and called for a loaf. The man wrapped
it up and gave it to me; and I could hardly wait till I got out
of the door before I bit into it. All the way back to the tent,
without water, I continued to tear off the bread and swallow it,
a highly relished meal.
One more string of these pronouns, first person, singular
number. The boarding tent that I went to the time my eyes
were gassed was a new place to me. I had never seen the
proprietor before and had gone there at the suggestion of some
of the well crew and on the strength of paying my board when
I collected my wages. When I went in that night, I knew that
my top shirt was badly soiled with oil but did not know that
the oil had gone through all my clothes. When I stripped to
go to bed, I could not see and still did not know that my under-
clothes were greasy too. Nor did I know it till the morning I
got up, and then I saw I had ruined the bed.
After breakfast, I told the proprietor that I had no money
and asked him if he would mind waiting for a settlement until
I could go to collect my wages. He agreed readily. I then
went further with my assurance. The man had happened to
mention that he was going to town on some errand, and I asked
him if he would buy and bring me back a clean undershirt. He
said he would do this too. True to his promise, when he re-
turned, in an hour or two, he brought a new shirt, for which
he had paid fifty cents out of his own pocket. I washed and
put on the shirt and left. As I went away, I wondered if he
thought he would ever see me again. He saw me. It would
have taken chains around my neck to prevent his seeing me
It turned out that he was to see me yet again. Several months
later, when. we had left Sour Lake and were living at Saratoga,
another small oil town near by, this same man came along late
one evening. He had lost all the money he had, he told us, and
was now out and down. As fortune would have it, I was now
up on my feet. Three others of us were batching; we owned
three tents, had good jobs, and were in money. I was glad to
Here’s what’s next.
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Texas State Historical Association. The Southwestern Historical Quarterly, Volume 50, July 1946 - April, 1947, periodical, 1947; Austin, Texas. (texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth101117/m1/50/: accessed December 17, 2017), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Texas State Historical Association.