United States or Grenada ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"When I insisted upon his having a third piece of pie, the hobo said: 'No, Major, t'anks, I got to ring off or I'll break de bank. "He, for once, had enough. I gave him a cigar. He sat down to smoke contented, I thought. I paid the bill; things are high in Montana, you know his part was $2.85. My hobo friend saw $3.55 rung up on the cash register. Then I went over and sat down beside him.
Her voice rose in sudden protest. "Every peasant girl in the vineyards may select her own lover, but I must be awarded by the crowned heads of the real kingdoms like a prize in a lottery. Do you wonder that I have run away and masqueraded for a taste of freedom before the end? Do you wonder" the head came down on his shoulder "that I want to be a hobo with a tomato-can and a fire of deadwood?"
"Yes, and we made sure that he had been there by examining the soil under the window. It is a part of a scout's education, you know, sir, looking for signs. We found them, too, marks of a long narrow shoe, that told us the man could never be a hobo but must be a gentleman.
But before he could introduce the subject, his attention was claimed by the news of Aunt Abigail's mysterious disappearance. As all the girls talked at once, the resulting explanation was somewhat confused, and Jerry gathered the impression that Hobo was being held responsible for driving Aunt Abigail into the pear-tree.
Hal had now before him a week's adventures as a hobo: a genuine hobo, with no ten dollar bill inside his belt to take the reality out of his experiences. He took stock of his worldly goods and wondered if he still looked like a dude. He recalled that he had a smile which had fascinated the ladies; would it work in combination with a black eye?
The coyote is your true water-witch, one who snuffs and paws, snuffs and paws again at the smallest spot of moisture-scented earth until he has freed the blind water from the soil. Many water-holes are no more than this detected by the lean hobo of the hills in localities where not even an Indian would look for it.
Upon their arrival at this station, a small hamlet, their first acquaintance told them that his road name was "Kansas Shorty" and his partner's "Slippery". The lads were surprised that these men should not use their Christian names, but as they were accustomed to hearing all the section laborers and every harvester called by a "monicker" or "name-de-rail", they kept their thoughts to themselves, and Joe, after listening to these instructions gleefully remarked: "Gee, I wish that you would give each of us a hobo name the same as you have."
He was a big, fair-haired boy, blue-eyed and clean limbed, and as he came down the trail there was a spring to his step that not even a limp could obliterate; and at every stride the great muscles in his chest played and rippled beneath his shirt. He was a fine figure of a man, tall and straight as an Apollo, and yet he was a hobo.
There was much truth in what he said, but Cavanagh refused to go further in the matter until he had consulted with Redfield. "Very well," replied Hartley, "that's settled. By-the-way, who is your patient?" Eloquently, concisely, Ross told the story. "Just a poor old mounted hobo, a survival of the cowboy West," he said; "but he had the heart of a hero in him, and I'm doing my best to save him."
The young men also wore tortoise-shell spectacles, but not smocks not usually, at least. One of them had an Albanian costume and a beard that was a cross between the beard of an early Christian martyr on a diet and that of a hobo who merely needed a shave. Elderly ladies loved to have him one-step with them and squeeze their elbows.
Word Of The Day