“No more letter,” he said, crumpling it in his hand.

The Chinese boys stood aside as I started into the bunk room to go out the back door. I was shamed, humiliated, covered with confusion. Turning back, I took off my hat, and facing the old man held up my right hand.

“If I ever rob another Chink I hope to rot in the gutter.” I was so intent on expressing my gratitude that I forgot my Chinese lingo.

He understood no word of it, I’m sure, but pointed again to the back. “You go ou’.”