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And so it was, when later, as a tramp, I succeeded in eluding some predatory constable, I could not but feel sorry for the little boys and girls at home in that constable's house; it seemed to me in a way that I was defrauding those little boys and girls of some of the good things of life. But it's all in the game. The hobo defies society, and society's watch-dogs make a living out of him.
After dinner, when the other girls were indulging in afternoon naps, or lounging on the porch, Peggy donned a broad-brimmed shade hat, and with Hobo at her heels, started toward Lucy's home.
His lantern was the first to twinkle in the morning as he doled out corn to his charges. Then came the ruck of field hands of all types. The average field hand in California is a cross between a hobo and a labourer. He works probably about half the year. The other half he spends on the road, tramping it from place to place.
McNorton will execute the warrant just as soon as we can formulate a charge. In fact, he is waiting downstairs in the hope of seeing " he paused, "Miss Cresswell. What does the doctor say?" "She's sleeping now." "It's maddening, maddening," groaned Beale, "and yet if it weren't so horrible I could laugh. Yesterday I was waiting for a 'hobo' to come out of delirium tremens.
Ames a costume exactly like her own, and with the complete face masks they wore, they might have been twins. They were just of a height and Mrs. Ames danced well. The children and the phonograph had long ago attended to that. There was nothing stupid about the ball from the very start. The policeman ended the grand march by arresting the hobo, who put up a fight that included two of the dominoes.
"Hain't that same kinder rough on us, young feller?" demanded the hobo or escaped jailbird, whichever the taller man might be. "Wot yer gives us only makes us hungrier'n 'ever. Wisht you'd look 'round an' see if yer cain't skeer up somethin' more in the line o' grub. Then we'll stretch out here nigh yer fire, an' git some sleep, 'cause we needs the same right bad."
"Walkin' home alone?" Harley P. was much concerned. "Not that I'm fishin' for an invitation to see you safe to the Hat Ranch, because that'd start talk, an' anyhow I ain't one o' the presumin' kind an' you know it; but it's dark an' the zephyr's blowin' like sixty, an' if there was one hobo on that freight I come in on there was a dozen." "Why, I didn't realize it was so late," Donna answered.
"Hope Hamilton's there." Brissenden paused and rested his hands. "Strawn- Hamilton's his name hyphenated, you know comes of old Southern stock. He's a tramp laziest man I ever knew, though he's clerking, or trying to, in a socialist cooperative store for six dollars a week. But he's a confirmed hobo. Tramped into town.
She turned her face on him with the question, and her eyes widened after a way they had until they seemed to be searching far out in the fields of untalked-of things, and seeing there something that clouded them with disquietude. "I should like to be a man," she went on, "a man and a hobo." The furrow vanished and the eyes suddenly went dancing.
The greasy hobo doesn't like to see me with you, and hasn't manners enough even to hide his feelings. Come, let us go on." A look that was really worth seeing came into the girl's fine eyes, but she only said calmly; "Matt will be back in a minute." "All the more reason why we should go. I should think you have had enough. I am sure I have."
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