An unwashed, evil-smelling, half-frozen Hobo was
dragged into the car, to our utter amazement!
"Hold on a minute, conductor," said Colonel Manysnifters, as they were
rushing the captive through. "What have you here? Where did you get him?
Who are you, sir?" asked he of the tramp. "Who are you, I say, and what
are you doing on this strictly private outfit?"
[Illustration: An uninvited guest.]
The tramp, quite unabashed, blew upon his fingers to warm them, picked
up a cigar stump from the floor, lighted it, and looking around the
group said courteously, though with a bored expression:
"Gentlemen, I got on your train about the time you did, though hardly in
the same way. A ride on the trucks and brakebeams, while exhilarating in
the extreme at the outset, soon becomes wearying and nerve-racking, so
at the last water tank I made bold to take up my quarters on the rear
platform, with an occasional climb to the roof for observation and
change. But, my, it is cold out there! If it hadn't been for my friend
here," exhibiting a flask, "I would have frozen to death. Alas, poor
fellow, he is empty now!" and he held it up to the light.
"It grew very dark and bitter as the night wore on; then the blizzard
caught us; but even in spite of that, I fell into a doze, to be rudely
awakened by this fellow--but what can you expect from a person of that
kind?" Here the brakeman gave a scornful grunt, and the conductor smiled
broadly.
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