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We ought to have fixed that so it wouldn't run." "Where are the hoboes?" asked the lieutenant. "Gone back to camp, wearied out with their exertions," laughed Jack. "They came to the Isthmus to work on the canal, but found the climate didn't agree with them, so they are taking the rest cure. I was a find for them, all right.
But when a fellow can't get a free pass, and he has any sort of stuff in him, except what hoboes are made of, he'll usually hustle for his car fare, rather than ride through life on the bumpers of a freight.
"Boo-hoo!" wailed Jerry, "don't want to go in the other car me an' Alice want to stay here the policeman's goin' to tell us all about hoboes he " "Oh, dear!" came a despairing little sigh, "whatever " Their eyes met and, at the droll perplexity he read in hers, George laughed outright. An explosive frank boyish laugh. He rose with a courteous gesture.
I went down the grade a hundred yards to where the footing beside the track was good. Here I could catch my freight as it pulled slowly up the hill, and here I found half a dozen hoboes waiting for the same purpose. Several were playing seven-up with an old pack of cards. I took a hand. A coon began to shuffle the deck. He was fat, and young, and moon-faced. He beamed with good-nature.
The horses cared for, and supper over, Yorke and Redmond lay back on their cots and blaguè'd each other wearily anent their mutual ill-luck. Slavin, critically conning over a lengthy crime-report on the case that he had prepared for headquarters, flung his composition on the table and leant back dejectedly in his chair. "Hoboes?" quoth he, darkly, and tongue-clucked in dismal fashion. "Eyah!
"My dear sir, in the words of a man who ought to have been an editor of to-day, 'The public be damned! What I looked to you for was not your idea of what somebody else wanted you to write, but your expression of what you yourself want to write. About hoboes. About railroad wrecks.
And if a feller vants to pull de tremulo stop fer a lot o' hoboes and Bullsheviki, and goes and spills his tears into his soup " It sounded fierce; but Mary apparently knew her Abey; also, she saw that Maw was starting to cry. "There's no use trying to bluff me, Abey. You know as well as I do there are hungry people in this city, and no fault of theirs.
He's got one wife already half a dozen, far as I know. You going to let him put this wedding farce over without a kick?" "Can I stop it?" "You can register a roar, can't you?" "Would it do any good? Did yours?" "You're different. He needs you to drill this ragged bunch of hoboes he calls an army. Pasquale has a lot of respect for you. He talked a lot about you before you came."
He, Bunker Hill, who had fed hoboes for years and had never taken a cent, to be insulted like this by the first sturdy beggar that he declined to serve with a meal! He reached for his gun, but just at that moment his wife laid a hand on his arm. She had not been far away, just up on the porch where she could watch what was going on, and she turned to the hobo with a smile. "Mr.
I asked him if Uncle Sam didn't take good care of him and he said: 'Yes, and so does a penitentiary! What does men like the Big Boss know about what we want? Why don't he ask me?" Jim nodded. "That's typical. One of the hoboes I brought in half-starved the other day came to my office this morning and told me how to feed the camp. He doesn't like our menu.
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