CHAPTER XXVIThree in a Ticket Line
With my back to the crowds thronging the big vaulted waiting room of the huge new El Paso Union Passenger Station on Palo Pinto Street and Beaumont Avenue, I completed the writing of the telegram I had started. The hands of the giant clock at the end of the waiting room stood at 16 minutes of 2. So I had 16 minutes yet before having to board my train. My wire was a bit long—388 words, to be exact, counting punctuation marks as words, for I had marked it to be sent “punctuated,” and so I marked it further for transmission at day-letter rates; and I now read it over before dispatching it. It read:
Simon Stannard,
16 Russell Square,
Chicago, Illinois.
Dear Unc: Everything came out okay, so you can sleep peacefully tonight. Charon came, and I have his th
