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"Aw, rats," scoffed Big Boy, "are you still telling that one? There was a miner came by just as he reached down to grab it and punched out every meal with his hob-nails." "That's the story," admitted Bunker, "but say, here's another one did you ever hear of the hobo Mark Twain?
The various articles were deposited in a circle about Hobo, as if he had been a heathen idol, and Aunt Abigail's worsted shawl and silk work-bag, votive offerings. Hobo did not in the least understand the meaning of this new game, but he was pleased to find himself the centre of attention, and thumped his tail against the porch with a sound like persistent knocking.
From the time his train left the Chicago Terminal until it pulled into the Union Station at Omaha, where Joe's "trip" ended, he employed every spare moment while they stopped at stations or water tanks, to carefully read every hobo sign that the drifters passing to and fro over the line had left behind them, ever hoping to discover a clue to Kansas Shorty's whereabouts by finding his name-de-rail with a date and an arrow beneath it pointing in the direction he was traveling.
Banneker might have added that one who had once known cities and the hearts of men from the viewpoint of that modern incarnation of Ulysses, the hobo, contemptuous and predatory, was little likely to be overawed by the most teeming and headlong of human ant-heaps. Having joined the ant-heap, Banneker was shrewdly concerned with the problem of conforming to the best type of termite discoverable.
We used to speculate on what would happen if some hobo knocked at the front door of the town house of the Duke of Westminster, say, and demanded of the butler in plush knee-breeches that he be let in. The chief defense against the Goths was a barrage of guns mounted mostly on the roofs of buildings.
We went down together, rolling over and over; and the automatic process was such in that miserable creature that in the moment of impact he reached out and clutched me and never let go. We were both knocked out, and he held on to a very lamb-like hobo while he recovered.
When Hal wondered if this were not against the law, "Cut it out, Bo!" said his companion. "When you've had a job for a while, you'll know that the law in a coal-camp is what your boss tells you." The hobo went on to register his conviction that when one man has the giving of jobs, and other men have to scramble for them, the law would never have much to say in the deal.
There was nothing to mar the friendliness of the dinner, however; not even when Ming slipped back and said in a low voice to the Captain: "Him Slilent Slam say no hobo come to blunk-house." They finished the meal leisurely; but on rising from the table Captain Rugley removed a heavy belt and holster from its hook behind the sideboard and slung it about his hips.
It'll cost you five dollars for your supper and breakfast and five dollars more for your bed that's my regular price to transients." "No, you don't!" exclaimed the hobo, but as Bunker looked up he drew back a step and waited. "That's ten dollars in all," continued Hill, extracting two bills from the purse, "and next time you bum your breakfast I'd advise you to thank the cook."
"The tramp shuffled up a step closer to the bench where I sat The anxiety in his big slack face was sincere beyond question. "'I can't find the banker man, Governor; he's skipped the coop. But I believe I can find what he's hid. "'Well' I said, 'go on and find it. "The hobo jerked out his limp hands in a sort of hopeless gesture.
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