He is one of those
itinerant reporters; to-day you might find him in Seattle, to-morrow
in Butte, the next week in Denver, and then possibly he would make
the circuit from Los Angeles to 'Frisco, and then all around again.
He drinks his whiskey straight, plays his faro fairly, and is not
particular about the women with whom he goes. He started life in
the Western country at an early age. His natural talents, both in
literature and in general adaptability to all conditions of life,
were early exhibited, but his _alma mater_ was the bar-room, and
the faculty of that college its bartenders and gamblers and general
habitues.
He seldom has social engagements outside of certain disreputable
establishments, where a genial personality or an over-burdened
pocketbook gives _entree_, and the rules of conventionality have
never even been whispered. His love affairs, confined to this class
of women, have seldom lasted more than a week or ten days. His editors
know him as a brilliant genius, irresponsible, unreliable, but at
times inestimably valuable. He cares little for personal appearance
beyond a certain degree of neatness. He is quick on the trigger, and
in a time of over-heated argument can go some distance with his fists;
in fact, his whole career is best described as "happy-go-lucky."
He realizes fully his ability to do almost anything fairly well, and
some things especially well, but he has never tried to accomplish
anything beyond the earning of a comfortable living.
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