Said, I ain’t looking for trouble, Father. I’m hungry and thirsty, name’s Cavanaugh.

Took me in and made mint juleps for the two of us.

Said, Living here alone, Father?

Said, Drink and ask no questions. Maybe I am and maybe I ain’t. You saw the lady. Draw your own conclusions.

I’d heard of that, but didn’t wink out of tact. If I told you that old Southern gentleman was my grandfather, you wouldn’t believe me, would you?

Joe I might.

Kit Carson Well, it so happens he wasn’t. Would have been romantic if he had been, though.

Joe Where did you herd cattle on a bicycle?

Kit Carson Toledo, Ohio, 1918.

Joe Toledo, Ohio? They don’t herd cattle in Toledo.

Kit Carson They don’t any more. They did in 1918. One fellow did, leastaways. Bookkeeper named Sam Gold. Straight from the East Side, New York. Sombrero, lariats, Bill Durham, two head of cattle and two bicycles. Called his place the Gold Bar Ranch, two acres, just outside the city limits. That was the year of the war, you’ll remember.

Joe Yeah, I remember, but how about herding them two cows on a bicycle? How’d you do it?

Kit Carson Easiest thing in the world. Rode no hands. Had to, otherwise couldn’t lasso the cows. Worked for Sam Gold till the cows ran away. Bicycles scared them. They went into Toledo. Never saw hide nor hair of them again. Advertised in every paper, but never got them back. Broke his heart. Sold both bikes and returned to New York.

Took four aces from a pack of red cards and walked to town. Poker. Fellow in the game named Chuck Collins, liked to gamble. Told him with a smile I didn’t suppose he’d care to bet a hundred dollars I wouldn’t hold four aces the next hand. Called it. My cards were red on the blank side. The other cards were blue. Plumb forgot all about it. Showed him four aces. Ace of spades, ace of clubs, ace of diamonds, ace of hearts. I’ll remember them four cards if I live to be sixty. Would have been killed on the spot except for the hurricane that year.

Joe Hurricane?

Kit Carson You haven’t forgotten the Toledo hurricane of 1918, have you?

Joe No. There was no hurricane in Toledo in 1918, or any other year.

Kit Carson For the love of God, then what do you suppose that commotion was? And how come I came to in Chicago, dream-walking down State Street?

Joe I guess they scared you.

Kit Carson No, that wasn’t it. You go back to the papers of November 1918, and I think you’ll find there was a hurricane in Toledo. I remember sitting on the roof of a two-storey house, floating north-west.

Joe (seriously) North-west?

Kit Carson Now, son, don’t tell me you don’t believe me, either?

Pause.

Joe (very seriously, energetically and sharply) Of course I believe you. Living is an art. It’s not bookkeeping. It takes a lot of rehearsing for a man to get to be himself.