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 WHO TRAVELED 
 
 MILES FOR $Z§J 
 
tfatk London 
 Gien Slim 
 Sonoma Co^ CaL Jkovac? 1S» 1917 
 
 jaelc •osaaB«s RrtMay 
 
 Uy Dear Ur.A.So.l: 
 
 Tou must forgXv* ay long delay in acknovledgiag yotir vary klD& letter 
 
 to oe in sty dark noux. 
 
 cr .»«» worlc is t.o finest tUng in the «orld. 
 ■ith all good wishes for the Re« ?ear» 
 
 SlDCCxely yours. 
 
 ^^) rui-q^ 
 
 1, 18XT 
 
 GlaEMai 
 Sawaa Co.. Ccd. 
 0.5. A. 
 Oaar A.Vo.l: 
 
 X can't eeea to say ^'fieax Ibr. Liviagston." And, as your wife is 
 UDdonbtedly proud. of your re&arkable career, she won't mi&dt 
 
 Really, X an quite ashaaed of myself for not aoknowledging your 
 set of books. Tou see, a great mass of packages and thlnga had piled vp, 
 and I have heea unable to cope vitb the accunulatlon . When I DID get at 
 sorting out, I found your set. X aa delighted to have thea and hope to 
 get at the reading of them before long. Ton have no idea how busy 1 an. 
 
 Tour title page looke good. X £ave Inserted something that seeme 
 good to me. 
 
 X should like to write more at length; hut I am Just h&ok froa a 
 •eek's abeence, and th« vork has piled Up again. 
 
 Send me a o^y of yout hook NUaber Sight as soon as it is ready. 
 
 Wth very beat wishes to you and yours. 
 Sincerely, 
 
 QJl 
 
 ■~.K>\fui 
 
 v<: UiiA^u^^ 
 
FROM 
 
 COAST TO COAST 
 
 WITH 
 
 JACK LONDON 
 
 —BY— 
 THE FAMOUS TRAMP ^.^ , 
 
 WRITTEN BY HIMSELF FROM PERSONAL 
 EXPERIENCES 
 
 SEVENTH EDITION 
 
 PRICE, 25 CENTS 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1917 
 BY 
 
 THE A-No. 1 PUBI^ISHING COMPANY 
 
 AH subject matter, as well as all illustrations, and especially the title of 
 
 this book, are fully protected by copyrights, and their use in any 
 
 form \rhatsoevQr will be vigorously prosecuted for infringement. 
 
 THE 
 
 (trade mark) 
 
 PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 ERIE, PENN'A, 
 U. S. A. 
 
"yri^ 
 
 mtenmmmmmmmm 
 
 ! 
 
 To Restless Young Men and Boys 
 
 Who Read this Book, the Author, who Has 
 Led for Over a Quarter of a Century the 
 Pitiful and Dangerous Life of a Tramp, 
 gives this Well-Meant Advice: 
 
 DO NOT 
 
 Jump on Moving Trains or Street Cars, even if 
 only to ride to the next street crossing, be- 
 cause this might arouse the "Wanderlust," 
 besides endangering needlessly 
 your life and limbs. 
 
 Wandering, once it becomes a habit, is almost 
 incurable, so NEVER RUN AWAY, but STAY 
 AT HOME, as a roving lad usually ends in becom- 
 ing a confirmed tramp. 
 
 There is a dark side to a tramp's life: for 
 every mile stolen on trains, there is one escape 
 from a horrible death; for each mile of beautiful 
 scenery and food in plenty, there are many weary 
 miles of hard walking with no food or even water 
 through mountain gorges and over parched des- 
 erts; for each warm summer night, there are ten 
 bitter-cold, long winter nights; for every kindness, 
 there are a score of unfriendly acts. 
 
 A tramp is constantly hounded by the minions 
 of the law; is shunned by all humanity, and never 
 knows the meaning of home and friends. 
 
 To tell the truth, the "Road" is a pitiful exist- 
 ence all the way through, and what is the end? 
 
 It is an even ninety-nine chances out of a 
 hundred that the finish will be a miserable one — an 
 accident, an alms-house, but surely an un-marked 
 pauper's grave. 
 
3 ^ 4 i 5 
 croB: Uhaof 
 
 To 
 
 JACK LONDON 
 Of all good fellows I've met, the best one, 
 
 and 
 
 MRS. JACK LONDON, 
 
 His greatest pal 
 
 and 
 
 Author 
 
 of 
 
 "THE LOG OF THE SNARK" 
 
 The book everybody should read. 
 
Contents 
 
 OUR ADVENTURES: Page 
 
 FIRST— The Meeting of the Ways 7 
 
 SECOND— The Smoky Trail 18 
 
 THIRD— In the Thick of the Hobo Game. 28 
 
 FOURTH— Hyenas in Human Form 31 
 
 FIFTH — The Hoboes' Pendulum of Death 37 
 
 SIXTH — The Killing of the Goose 46 
 
 SEVENTH— Shadows of the Road 50 
 
 EIGHTH — Old Strikes & Company 55 
 
 NINTH— Deadheading the Deadhead 66 
 
 TENTH— Sons of the Abyss 17 
 
 ELEVENTH — The Rule of Might 84 
 
 TWELFTH— Prowlers of the Night 89 
 
 THIRTEENTH— Bad Bill of Boone 94 
 
 FOURTEENTH— Old Jeff Carr of Cheyenne .... 107 
 FIFTEENTH — Sidetracked in theLandiof Manual 17 
 SIXTEENTH— The Parting of the Ways.. 126 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 OUR FIRST ADVENTURE 
 
 "The Meeting of the Ways/* 
 
 (4¥NFAM0US is your assertion that in New York 
 I City should be abroad even one resident so 
 * grossly uninformed of the miserable existence 
 led by the roving tramps as to voluntarily offer him- 
 self as a travel mate to a professional hobo, A. No. 1 1'* 
 Editor Godwin of the Sunday World Magazine pro- 
 tested, having overheard a corresponding comment I 
 had broached to a reporter who was recording the 
 points of an interview. 
 
 On arriving in New York City I had drifted to 
 the editorial rooms of the newspaper publishing the 
 best feature section in connection with its Sunday 
 issue. The World had accepted my proffer to fur- 
 nish an exclusive interview. A pencil pusher was 
 assigned to take notes of my story which he was or- 
 dered to transcribe into a human-interest article for 
 the magazine section. 
 
 Most entertaining was the tale of hobo life which 
 I had to unfold. It reviewed an existence fairly 
 brimming with adventures and experiences the like 
 of which were never encountered by folks who trailed 
 in the well-beaten ruts of legitimate endeavor. Of 
 paramount importance was the circumstance that se- 
 curely pasted in a memorandum I carried on my trav- 
 els documentory evidence which verified the fact that 
 my statements were based on actuality. 
 
8 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 To this day when the possession of a most happy 
 home seems to have effectually quenched the spirit 
 of unrest which heretofore had driven me for more 
 than thirty years over the face of the globe, I still 
 treasure the humble note book as my most cherished 
 belonging — the only relic remaining to remind me of 
 the days I wantonly wasted on the Road. 
 
 Among no end of other most worthy services per- 
 formed by the memorandum, many an envious "knock- 
 er" had his blatant mouth shut up in short order by 
 a perusal of its pages. It contained records which 
 irrefutably proved that I, who was a homeless out- 
 cast, had gloriously made good where all my fellows 
 had failed to gain even a fleeting remembrance by 
 posterity. There were recommendations galore do- 
 nated by grateful railroad companies and others by 
 individual railroaders for saving — ofttimes at the risk 
 of serious personal injury — trains from wreck and dis- 
 aster by giving timely warning of faulty condition of car 
 or track equipment. And letters penned by appreciative 
 parents of youths, and others by some of the waywards 
 themselves whom by the thousands I had induced to 
 forsake an unnatural existence which was the straight 
 path to mental, moral and physical perdition. And 
 newspaper clippings by the score which mentioned 
 deeds worth while I had performed — in many instances 
 years prior to the time publicity was accorded them. 
 And autographic commendations by a long line of 
 national notables, such as Burbank, Edison, Admiral 
 Dewey, three of the presidents of the United States, 
 a governor general of Canada and others too many 
 to enumerate in limited space. 
 
 By reason of this record and the fact that I was 
 a total abstainer — which was a case of utmost rarity 
 
From Coast to Coast with lack London. 9 
 
 with the hoboes — I was regarded by newspaperdom 
 as an authority concerning everything pertaining to 
 the Road and the tramp problem in general. There- 
 fore my loud-spoken remark to the reporter that there 
 were abroad in every community folks who would 
 blindly accompany a hobo, elicited the retort by Editor 
 Godwin which was chronicled at the opening of this 
 chapter. 
 
 "How will you prove your contention, A. No. 1?" 
 Mr. Godwin inquired when I had reiterated my asser- 
 tion. 
 
 "Allow me sufficient space in' the 'Help Wanted* 
 columns of your daily for the insertion of an announce- 
 ment asking a traveling companion for a hobo, sir!" 
 I returned, assured that my demand would be refused 
 point blank. 
 
 Contrary to my expectation, Editor Godwin con- 
 sidered my suggestion. Making use of his desk tele- 
 phone, he held a consultation with the management 
 of the newspaper's advertising bureau. The conference 
 resulted in the granting of my request. 
 
 In the morning issue of the World this advertise- 
 ment made its appearance: 
 
 WANTED — TRAVEL MATE by hobo con- 
 templating roughing trip to Oalifomia. 
 Address: Quick-Getaway, Letter Box, 
 N. Y. World. 
 
 The afternoon mails brought a veritable avalanche 
 of responses. Other dozens of letters were delivered 
 by special messengers. Several telegrams arrived, some 
 of which had prepaid replies. All had come from cor- 
 respondents who had most greedily snapped up the 
 tempting bait of the phoney advertisement. 
 
10 From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 
 
 The messages originated from all walks of life 
 and were of every kind of offer and demand. Inquisi- 
 tive inquiries predominated, as a matter of course. 
 Again, many of the answers were dictated in a jocular 
 or sarcastic vein. Some of the replies were of such a 
 memorable character that I recall them to this late 
 day. 
 
 One came from a patriarch who stated, that, 
 though he had six married sons, he had all his days 
 nursed a strange fascination for the outdoor life, that 
 to satisfy this great craving of his he would gladly 
 consider an acceptance of the position. Wishing to 
 convey a literal estimate of his personal prowess, he 
 frankly wrote: "Although I am right smart up in 
 years, I still am as spry as a bad wildcat!" 
 
 Another letter of this class was forwarded by a 
 brokenhearted mother. The unfortunate lady pleaded 
 that her son, a reprobate, be taken away from the city 
 as an only means of saving his unfortunate family 
 further shame, if not disgrace far worse. 
 
 "Haven't I correctly judged the degree of ignor- 
 ance manifested by the average citizen when it comes 
 to a lucid idea of what the Road really is, Mr. Editor!" 
 I cried triumphantly, when on wearying of opening 
 the letters, which still came pouring in, we consigned 
 the remainder of them to a waste paper basket. 
 
 "The material you have provided we shall work 
 up into a story that will be warning long to be re- 
 membered by every soul who answered the advertise- 
 ment, A. No. 1 !" Mr. Godwin declared, at the time I 
 took a final leave of him and his editorial staff. 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London* 11 
 
 IN the morning, and ere I quit the city for another 
 destination, I called at the letter box to pick up 
 mail which might have arrived during the preceding 
 night. While I scanned the contents of letters handed 
 me by the clerk in charge of the mailing division, I 
 was tapped lightly on the shoulder by some one who 
 desired to attract my attention. 
 
 "Pardon my interrupting you, sir!*' a stranger said, 
 excusing himself. "But as I noted by the address of 
 your correspondence that you were the Mr. Quick- 
 Getaway who has advertised for a traveling companion, 
 I dared|to accost you to request a personal interview." 
 
 The speaker was a youth of perhaps eighteen years. 
 His five foot seven of stature, though of rather slim 
 proportions, displayed every indication of holding no 
 end of latent animal energy. A mass of rich brown hair 
 tumbled well down on his forehead, shading a pair of 
 gray eyes which gazed at you, keen and penetrating. 
 At the moment they were a-smile — this no doubt due 
 to the immense satisfaction it brought their owner to 
 know he had stolen a march on his competitors for the 
 hobo job which was so greatly coveted. 
 
 This was his wearing apparel. A traveling cap 
 which he wore jauntily tilted to the side of his head, 
 and a navy-blue flannel shirt with collar attached. He 
 had no vest. His coat and trousers were much _ the 
 worse for rough usage. A pair of brogans of a medium 
 weight completed the outfit. 
 
 Courteously lifting his cap, the chap went on: 
 "When are you to depart from the city, sir?*' 
 
 "Is that any of your concern," I sharply let him 
 know, taken aback by the fellow who had caught me 
 off my guard, also believing that my intentions were 
 none of his business. 
 
12 From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 
 
 "As I, too, am ready to shake this burg for Cali- 
 fornia, I am willing to stake you to my company!" 
 he continued unawed by the reproof, faithfully acting 
 the role of the dog who adopted his master. 
 
 "And who, then, are you;" I flared, aroused by his 
 impertinence. 
 
 "I'm out looking for a comrade with whom to 
 hobo-cruise around the globe, friend !" he replied, reveal- 
 ing his plan. 
 
 "Then you're on the wrong tack for I am no sailor!" 
 I informed the persistent fellow, temporizing with him 
 for the sake of not drawing public notice to our un- 
 friendly conversation. 
 
 "That's why I believed it to be most desirable that 
 we travel in comradeship to the Pacific Coast, pal," he 
 came back undismayed. "There I belong in Oakland, 
 across the bay from the city of San Francisco, where 
 I want to stop a while to visit with my folks prior to 
 continuing my jaunt by sea." 
 
 I was at the point of treating the stranger to a 
 tart rebuff, when that wagging tongue of his resumed: 
 "You'll find me to be reliable and strictly on the square. 
 Should I turn out disappointing, ditch me en route 
 anywhere you prefer. And, should we get along to- 
 gether, what's the matter with doubling up for the 
 rest of the trip I have in view. I've been a sailor 
 and know how to make things pull easiest aboard 
 ships. It always was my pet project to make a journey 
 around the whole of Mother Earth. As I'm determin- 
 ed right now to make a start-off on such a rove, 
 wouldn't you like to come along?" 
 
 Thus the youth prattled on. Running counter to 
 the great dislike I had fostered against his person and 
 personality, ere I was aware of this change, I had ac- 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 
 
 m 
 
 Jack London proposed a hobo partnership. 
 
14 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 quired a deep interest in the speaker because of his 
 odd proposition. Too, there was an honest sound 
 closely bordering on outright bluntness ringing through 
 his appeal. All this combined to send my thoughts 
 running riot. 
 
 All my days I had yearned to see the world by 
 way of a circling trip. Only too well I recalled char- 
 acteristic incidents of my school days. Then countless 
 times I was reproved by the teachers for sitting with 
 eyelids held widely open but with eyes entirely obliv- 
 ious to surroundings. For I was allowing daylight 
 dreams to drag me away to far-off shores and on and 
 ever onward seeking hair-raising adventures among 
 strange peoples — until the harsh words of my enraged 
 preceptors rudely tore me from the willful neglect of 
 my lessons. (No wonder then, that I did not shine at 
 school ! At thirty-eight sheer necessity compelled my 
 commencing the study of books of primary education.) 
 
 While these lively thought-bees busily buzzed 
 through my mind, thus arousing to a more furious flare 
 the wanderlust which already held me enthralled, I 
 hearkened to the. invitation of my tempter. By the 
 time he had concluded, I was on edge to have a further 
 investigation of his prospects. I proposed that we 
 adjourn from the crowded business lobby of the World 
 to a bench I chanced to espy as standing vacant in the 
 nearby City Hall Park— -a bit of breathing space in the 
 heart of a group of towering skyscrapers. 
 
 "And what might be your name, sir?" I asked the 
 youth when we had occupied the bench. 
 
 "It's Jack London, sir!" he simply stated, then 
 an ugly scowl came on his countenance for I had broken 
 into a merry laugh while I explained that I had asked 
 to hear his correct family nAme and not his moniker.* 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 15 
 
 "That's what it is! Exactly as you see it spelled 
 out in the address of the envelope of this letter I re- 
 ceived a couple days ago here at the General Delivery!" 
 he remonstrated, as if he regarded my comment as a 
 personal affront. 
 
 "I understand! You purposely transposed your 
 road-name to have lawful passage in the government 
 mails accorded to your correspondence, sir!" I replied 
 when I had read the address of the letter. Then quite 
 assured that I had struck the key of the riddle, I con- 
 tinued, "After all, your moniker is 'London Jack,' 
 meaning that you are a tramp whose call name is 
 'Jack' and who originally hailed from Old London 
 Town or other community which adopted this name 
 as its own." 
 
 "I was tramp-named 'Cigaret' and 'Sailor Jack' by 
 fellows with whom I've roughed it on land and water, 
 but 'London' is my correct family name !" he insisted. 
 
 "Whichever moniker you prefer, 'Jack London,' 
 'London Jack' or any other which strikes your 
 fancy, what are your plans?" I impatiently quizzed,, 
 aiming to get a straight conversation under headway. 
 
 "Today I am going to leave overland. This will 
 be the first stretch of a journey comprising a mileage 
 of no less than twenty-five thousand!" he briefly an- 
 nounced. 
 
 Seeking information on a very important matter, 
 I asked: "And how are you fixed financially?" 
 
 'This forenoon I spent my last cent on a postal 
 card to advise my folks that I am about to pay them 
 a brief call," he admitted. 
 
 "Then we are both in the sam« unfortunate fix, 
 my boy!" I groaned commiseratingly. 
 
16 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 "Yet you had the nerve to insert that tantalizing 
 offer I" he came back in sharp reprimand. 
 
 This retort caused me to account for the events 
 which preceded the insertion of the advertisement. I 
 explained how for my meals I had stood off Editor 
 Godwin. That at- night I had flopped a-top a battery 
 of boilers connected with a power plant which was 
 placed in the lowest of the basements which in the 
 World Building extended three-deep below the street 
 level of the metropolis. 
 
 Mutual confessions were in order. From one stage 
 of quick acquaintance we drifted to another. He feel- 
 ingly spoke of his past. He mentioned incidents which 
 had occurred in the days of his childhood when he 
 was a member of the family of a poor ranchman. He 
 told something of his experiences as newsboy, factory 
 hand, cannery laborer, oyster pirate and of his connec- 
 tion with the fish patrol which policed the waters of 
 the Bay of San Francisco and the estuaries of the 
 Sacramento and the San Joaquin Rivers. He bitterly 
 complained that so relentlessly had he been driven to 
 his tasks by his workmasters, that, step by step, his 
 belief in receiving a fair-deal by his fellow-men was 
 undermined. Then he had abandoned himself to the 
 Road — the abyss, figuratively, which among other 
 human scum, engulfed the derelicts produced by our 
 intense civilization. 
 
 "There seems to be nothing to prevent our be- 
 coming hobo comrades and, I hope soon, the be^t of 
 chums, fellow !" he said, reiterating his original plea when 
 he had concluded the review of his personal history. 
 
 "But I am bound for Boston and the scenic section 
 lying to the north of that city!" I informed him, stat- 
 ing the route I intended roving. 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 17 
 
 "It's a most simple matter for a tramp to change 
 his travel plans to suit the occasion!" he quickly 
 countered. "By doubling up with me, you too, maybe, 
 will make my globe-trot!" 
 
 Thus irresistibly ran the line of his argument. He 
 decisively checkmated every objection I dared to ad- 
 vance. In no time I found myself outgeneraled on 
 every point I tried to score against a partnership. 
 Finally, he who was my junior by four years compelled 
 my consenting to become "his" travel mate for the 
 term of the circle trip of the globe, which he was con- 
 templating. 
 
 The dry advertisement which in a spirit of rank 
 bravado I had caused to be inserted in the newspaper 
 had come home to roost in the shape of a boomerang. 
 I, who had derisively snickered while perusing the cor- 
 respondence of more than five hundred fools who had 
 yearned to become a companion to a hobo, had myself 
 fallen an easy prey to the self-same lure. A hobo 
 comradeship resulted which culminated in a friendship 
 which firmly endured until the death of Jack London. 
 
 * Spoken: mo'nee'ker — th9 nickname every hobo asBumed. 
 
18 From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 
 
 OUR SECOND ADVENTURE 
 
 "The Smoky Trail" 
 
 HAVING arrived at an understanding on the mat- 
 ter of partnership, we allowed our conversation 
 to become a conference, the object of which was 
 the selection of a railroad route whereby to reach the 
 Pacific Slope. 
 
 In eighteen hundred and ninety-four there were 
 nine distinct railway systems running westward from 
 New York City. To the uninitiated these railroads 
 looked as much alike as an equal number of beans in 
 a pod — to cite a familiar comparison. But to the 
 professional hobo there were no end of fine distinctions 
 to be discerned which had carefully to be considered 
 before he decided on the line over which he "hit the 
 Smoky Trail." 
 
 Some of the nine railroads, while maintaining a 
 faultless passenger service, had woefully neglected or 
 "red taped" their freight traffic. One of the larger 
 of the systems actually penalized engineers who 
 dragged freight trains over its splendid trackage 
 at a greater rate than ten miles an hour. Another of 
 the railroads had deliberately permitted that portion of 
 its business which was transported in "varnished" cars 
 to deteriorate to such a degree of slovenliness, that 
 this service became the butt of common ridicule. On 
 the other hand, this rail line maintained a cargo ser- 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 19 
 
 vice which was so expeditious that shippers most 
 liberally patronized this, its only modernized depart- 
 ment. Then there were roads which though otherwise 
 considered as "free and easy" by the wanderlusting 
 fraternity, served communities — sometimes lone water 
 tank stops — where officers of the peace raised havoc 
 with the "liberties" of the tramps. Again, there were 
 the "hunger lanes," thus nicknamed by the Wandering 
 Willies because they passed through territory the pop- 
 ulace of which either was "strictly hostile" or refused 
 to "produce" in response to further "battering" for 
 alms. 
 
 But of an almost invaluable importance to the 
 devotee of vagabondage was the exact knowledge of 
 the location of the lairs of the railroad "bulls." At 
 that time (1894) the railroad officers had just com- 
 menced to transform the idyllic existence of John 
 Tramp into an interminable living nightmare which 
 was filled to overflowing with drubbings, clubbings, 
 long terms in workhouses and, worst penalty of all, 
 self-supporting prison farms, the "key" of which was 
 thrown away until the time the hobo had absolutely 
 reformed. 
 
 (I first hit the Smoky Trail in 1883. Then the 
 railroads comprised 190,000 miles of trackage and 25 
 just about covered the number of effective detectives 
 employed by the transportation companies. By 1894 
 the membership of the railroad-salaried sleuths had 
 mounted to 275. At present (1917) 7,410 special offi- 
 cers are required to police a mileage of 257,570. These 
 statistics not only prove the phenomenal increase in 
 the criminality of the hoboes but also the lack of 
 common sense in human beings who will cheerfully 
 
20 From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 
 
 stake their life and liberty against odds so utterly 
 hopeless.) 
 
 For some time prior to our meeting, Jack London 
 had lived the life of the Road. He had negotiated one 
 complete transcontinental round trip. At this moment 
 he was about to start on the return journey of a 
 second hobo jaunt. But neither his scope of railroad 
 knowledge nor the vast practical and otherwise ex- 
 perience, which I had acquired during the more than 
 a half of a score of years which I had roughed it, 
 was to be of any benefit when we came to select a 
 route of traveling from New York City. We found 
 ourselves effectively shelved by the simple circum- 
 stance that neither of us commanded the six cents 
 which was necessary for our ferriage across the Hudson 
 River to Hoboken or Weehawken or Jersey City where 
 eight of the nine westbound railroads had their termini. 
 
 This left us the New York Central Lines as an 
 only avenue of exit from New York City. Quitting 
 the park bench, we walked to the Grand Central Ter- 
 minal, which railroad station was located in the heart 
 of the metropolitan business district. We had rashly 
 calculated that it would prove child's play to slip, 
 mingled with a crowd of bonafide railroad patrons, 
 through the depot to where we could board an outgoing 
 passenger train. Arriving at the gates, the only avail- 
 able entrance to the train shed, we staged any number 
 of futile attempts to run the gauntlet of ticket inspec- 
 tors and other guards. The disturbance we created 
 was such that somebody tipped us off to the police. 
 Forthwith we found ourselves "pinched" by a John Law 
 who, kindly fellow that he was, confronted us with the 
 alternative of instantly quitting the railroad premises 
 or serving a stiff term at BlackweH's Island, the penal 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 21 
 
 colony of the municipality. We readily chose the 
 lesser of the two evils and went our way without wait- 
 ing for further unpleasant developments to ensue. 
 
 " Having had our initial start thoroughly queered, 
 we set out on Lexington Avenue to reach the New 
 York Central freight yard which then was located at 
 One Hundred and Fifty-Second Street. While we 
 plodded along the seemingly endless avenue, now and 
 again we stopped en route at private residences and 
 shops to panhandle food. Everywhere we "battered" 
 we were tartly sent on our way. Evidently consecu- 
 tive generations of professional mendicants and others 
 had exhausted the charity of the New Yorkers we 
 tackled for donations. Dusk had begun to blend with 
 darkness and we were but a short step from our des- 
 tination, when Jack London managed somehow to 
 secure a loaf of stale bread at a baker's. 
 
 "Let's camp on the curb of the street and have a 
 royal feast, pal!" he jubilantly cried on returning to 
 where I was waiting, triumphantly holding aloft the 
 precious gift. 
 
 "And attract the attention of the mounted police!" 
 I frowned, giving a warning which made him quite 
 willing to continue our walk. 
 
 Beyond the further end of the freight yard and 
 near the switch by which the outlet siding connected 
 with the main line of the New York Central, we found 
 a resting place upon some discarded railroad sills (ties). 
 Scarcely had we seated ourselves, than below us in 
 the yard we heard shooting and wild shouting. Short- 
 ly afterward a man rushed by where we were lounging. 
 Seeing us and correctly surmising why we were near 
 the spot where trains departed from the yard, he 
 called out that sleuths were at his heels. Another 
 
22 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 instant — and carrying the loaf of stale punk, we, too, 
 had joined in the headlong getaway. We were running 
 in the race betwixt the fugitive and the John Laws 
 from whom we managed to escape after they had 
 chased us quite a distance. 
 
 The fellow who had saved us from the penalty 
 of the law was a hobo. He introduced himself as 
 "Stiffy Brandon.'* His moniker indicated that for a 
 beggar craft he had chosen the one which imposed 
 upon the credulous by stimulating the awful affliction of 
 the paralytic. He told how he was scared up by 
 special agents and had run for freedom while bullets 
 came mighty nigh whistling his requiem. 
 
 In the company of Stiffy Brandon we continued on 
 the track until we reached a "tower." In the days 
 prior to the installation of automatic train protection, a 
 two-storied structure held a telegraph operator who 
 from his vantage point in the second loft of the tower 
 guarded the passing traffic against collisions and other 
 disasters by signalling to the train crews by means 
 of colored flags and after nightfall with lamps of 
 various colors. 
 
 Whenever trains approached each other too closely 
 for safe railroading, the towerman brought the offend- 
 ing crews to terms either by reducing the speed of 
 or halting their trains. It was to wait for a chance 
 of the latter sort to hobo onward that in a thicket 
 located but a short distance from the track and tower 
 we lighted a low-burning smudge the warm glow of 
 which afforded protection from the night air and the 
 thick fog which heavily shrouded the valley of the 
 Hudson. 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 23 
 
 "Do you wish to share the bread with us, strang- 
 er?" kindly inquired Jack London when we were ready 
 to make away with the loaf. 
 
 "Since early morning I haven't touched food, 
 friends!" the fellow admitted, accepting our charity. 
 
 "It's like casting bread upon the waters!" laughed 
 Jack London while he handed a third of the loaf to 
 Stiffy Brandon who joined us in bolting the pittance 
 of food. 
 
 When we had lunched we improvised pillows by 
 rolling our shoes into our coats — a common usage 
 practiced by tramps. Then we stretched ourselves by 
 the side of the campfire to take a rest while we waited 
 for a train to stop. 
 
 Jack London awakened me from the deep slumber 
 into which I had sunk wearied by our long march, 
 a distance of more than two hundred paved city blocks. 
 On the main line and almost abreast of where we were 
 camping, stood a passenger train, halted by the tower- 
 man and awaiting his signal to proceed on its journey. 
 
 "Where's the other guy. Jack?" I asked rubbing 
 the sleep from my eyes, noticing the absence of our 
 fellow-tramp. 
 
 "And where are our coats and shoes?" stormed 
 my travel mate, calling attention to the fact that our 
 pillows, too, had disappeared. 
 
 "The scoundrel with whom we broke bread, has 
 done us this turn to prove his gratitude!" I angrily 
 shouted. 
 
 But we promptly realized the full extent of our 
 predicament. I proposed that we take advantage of 
 the moment by hoboing the passenger train to a town 
 
24 From Coast to Coast zmth Jack London. 
 
 or city where the outlook would be more promising 
 to panhandle other coats and shoes than it was at the 
 lone watch tower by the railroad. 
 
 In our stocking feet we painfully stumbled to the 
 side of the track. We arrived in fhe nick of time to 
 swing aboard the departing train onto its "blind bag- 
 gage," as is called the front platform of the first car 
 coupled to the rear of the engine tender. 
 
 While we were discussing the miserable treatment 
 we had received at the hands of a hobo we had trusted 
 to be incapable of robbing his own kind, the train, 
 then running at a fair rate of speed, began to take water 
 from a track tank. This was a chute-like contraption 
 a quarter of a mile in length, made of flush-riveted 
 plates and built between the rails in the center of the 
 track. From an adjacent pumping station water was 
 let into the chute from where it was drawn aboard the 
 moving train by means of a scoop which extended 
 at an easy gradient through the bottom plates of the 
 engine tender. 
 
 "Hustle over here, A. No. 1 ! See our train taking 
 water on the fly !** Jack London cried out in excitement, 
 bringing me hurrying to his side where between the 
 cars we could watch the process of the track tank. 
 
 Neither of us had previously hoboed the blind 
 baggage of a passenger train of one of the few rail- 
 road systenis which at that time were equipped with 
 track tanks. Furthermore, we were quite innocent of 
 knowledge of the fact that the water chute held a 
 capacity to supply the requirements of the wet fluid 
 to ^double header" trains, as trains pulled by two en- 
 gines were called in the parlance of the railroaders. 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 25 
 
 The engine caught water on the fly. And so did we. 
 
26 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 Soon the capacity of the tender of our engine was 
 reached. Then the surplus shot over the rear of the 
 tender. This overflow caught us on our necks as we 
 were bending over to watch the sight. The water struck 
 us with the enormous pressure produced by the im- 
 mense force of the speeding train on the water drawn 
 upwards in the scoop. But for the fortunate circum- 
 stance that to gaze downward the better, we had 
 taken a firm hold of the guard railing of the platform, 
 for a certainty we would have shared the fate of the 
 many trespassers who were washed off moving trains 
 by the overflow from track tanks to be dashed upon 
 the right of way and there to meet a most horrible 
 death. 
 
 As it was, we were almost drowned in the torrent 
 of the overflow. When we had traveled beyond the 
 zone of immediate danger, wet through and through 
 as we were, we were chilled by the cold draught of 
 air generated by the train which soon after leaving 
 the track tank attained a speed of better than a mile 
 a minute. 
 
 Seventy rniles further on, at Poughkeepsie, the 
 train made its first halt. Even before the coaches had 
 been brought to a complete stop, we were taken in 
 charge by a railroad sleuth. I could readily recognize 
 our captor to this day, as then but recently a savage 
 hobo had bit off one of his ears. The officer marched 
 us to the city lockup where the warden, Samaritan 
 that he was, supplied us shivering ones with shoes 
 from a collection of castoffs brought to headquarters 
 by the local police. While most charitably inclined, 
 our friend proved himself very remiss in the perform- 
 ance of his official duties, or, and this was most likely, 
 he had intentionally left improperly fastened the door 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 27 
 
 of the cage into which he had placed us. Anyhow, 
 when on an errand, he went from the calaboose, we 
 released ourselves from the cell and left the jail. Then 
 we hurried from the city by way of alleys and byways 
 which were not frequented during the hush of the 
 night. 
 
28 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 OUR THIRD ADVENTURE 
 
 "In the Thick of the Hobo Oame.** 
 
 BREAK of day was painting the eastern horizon with 
 rainbow tints, when we swung aboard a freight 
 train passing at reduced speed through Rhinediff. 
 Unmolested we hoboed to the West Albany Yard where 
 a policeman went for us. By a very close shave we 
 escaped arrest. Later on we climbed aboard an out- 
 bound train of empty stock cars. We had scarcely 
 entered a car, when coming in by an end door, a 
 brakeman paid us a visit. 
 
 "Got any money on which to ride, fellows?" he 
 roughly asked. At the same time he threateningly 
 whirled a stout hickory club, such as was carried in 
 the days preceding the universal introduction of auto- 
 matic brake devices by every trainman for use in 
 setting and releasing of the brakes. 
 
 "We are down-and-outers hunting for employment, 
 sir!" Jack London humbly volunteered, excusing our 
 presence. 
 
 "Do you carry cards?" gruffly inquired the rail- 
 road man, having reference to identification cards 
 issued to members by labor unions. 
 
 "We're non-unionists, friend!" admitted my hobo 
 mate, finding himself cornered. 
 
 "Scabs shan't ride my train! Therefore, if you 
 fellows value your hides don't allow me to catch sight 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 29 
 
 of you aboard these cars after this train quits the 
 Schenectady water plug!" he roared at us and then 
 withdrew from the car. 
 
 In the stock car adjoining the one we were hoboing, 
 the shack found other trespassers. 
 
 Presently we heard him snarl: "Got any money 
 with which to square yourselves for this trip?" 
 
 The answer he received must have proven an unsat- 
 isfactory one for presently he called for a showdown 
 of union cards. 
 
 "Here they are for your inspection. They arc paid 
 to date, Brother Workman!" was the reply which 
 echoed above the racket raised by the cars. 
 
 "WhereVe you boes traveling to anyhow?" growled 
 the brakeman. 
 
 "To Rochester where weVe got jobs waiting our 
 arrival, friend!" he was told. 
 
 "There are already too many men out of work now 
 at Rochester! Therefore, if you fellows value your 
 hides don't allow me to catch sight of you aboard 
 these cars after this train quits the Schenectady water 
 plug!" warned the railroad shack who grafted while 
 his job lasted. Then he would appear, sailing under 
 another assumed name, on some other railroad where 
 he plied his crooked game until frowned upon by his 
 honest fellow-employes who usually lent a helping 
 hand to have the unprincipled "boomer" discharged 
 from the service. 
 
 Among the tramps who were left behind at a 
 water station located some miles beyond the city of 
 Schenectady, we discovered Stiffy Brandon, the rascal 
 who so meanly had repaid our charity. He grudgingly 
 confessed that after he robbed us while we were 
 sleeping, he had sneaked back into the freight yard. 
 
30 
 
 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 There foolhardily defying arrest, he had come away 
 from New York aboard the same freight train with 
 which we had connected at West Albany. He already 
 had disposed of the footwear. But he wore our coats 
 drawn over his own, one squeezed into the other — this 
 in accordance with a custom observed by all hoboes 
 who were seeking purchasers for garments dishonestly 
 obtained. We took charge of our coats. Then we 
 settled for the theft and the absence of our shoes by 
 handing the scoundrel such a sound drubbing, that 
 when we chased him from the vicinity of the water 
 plug, he swore to even the trouncing though this nec- 
 essitated his following us all the way across the con- 
 tinent. 
 
 Soon afterward a train pulled up to take on water. 
 We crawled into a hiding place aboard. With the 
 exception of a close race with a city cop who at Utica 
 hot-footed it after us, we had no other encounter worth 
 while chronicling until we landed in the western out- 
 skirts of the city of Buffalo. 
 
From Const to Coast with J<Kk London, 31 
 
 OUR FOURTH ADVENTURE 
 
 "Hyenas in Hviman Form." 
 
 THE freight yards of the New York Central Lines 
 were located at West Seneca. In close proximity 
 to the extensive terminal were the residences of 
 some of the employees of the Buffalo street car system. 
 During the day many of these men rang up fares, 
 twisted brakes and controllers and honorably earned 
 stipends considered quite sufficient to meet the needs 
 of fellow-workers who were not let in on the graft the 
 others plied after nightfall. Then they hooked to the 
 coats of their uniforms a badge supplied to its consta- 
 bles by Erie County, New York. Equipped with club 
 and revolver they set out on a hunting expedition. 
 Odd indeed was the quarry stalked by these gents in 
 the dark when Br'er Rabbit and other prey of the 
 legitimate huntsman had retreated to their lairs. The 
 street car roughs were hunting penniless out-of-works 
 who, in many instances, had dependents looking to 
 them for support. Fortunates who had daily bread 
 a-plenty were searching for unfortunates who not even 
 had a place to rest their weary bodies! 
 
 Judas Iscariot who for paltry shekels peddled his 
 immortality stood no comparison with the black souls 
 of these residents of Buffalo. The miserables which 
 they caught were handed over to the authorities for 
 
32 Fro}n Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 a fee amounting to twenty-five cents for each prisoner. 
 The law sent the unfortunates to serve long terms in 
 the Erie County Penitentiary, then universally con- 
 ceded to be the most shameless money leeching prop- 
 osition within the confines of the graft-ridden state 
 of New York. 
 
 As were all hoboes who had attained or were 
 aspiring to attain the professional rating, so Jack 
 London and I were amply apprised of the great 
 menace which threatened every box car tourist who 
 dared to linger after dusk at West Seneca yard. 
 Furthermore, only recently while hoboing eastward, 
 Jack London was "glummed" at Niagara Falls, also 
 in Erie County, where he drew down a sentence of 
 thirty days which he served in the notorious work- 
 house. 
 
 It was night time when we arrived at West 
 Seneca. Without tarrying an unnecessary moment 
 we continued westward on the track until we walked 
 into Angola. In the morning a freight stopped at 
 this first water stop beyond Buffalo. While looking 
 over the train for a likely hiding place, we ran across 
 a stock car loaded with cabbage. An end door of 
 the car stood ajar — possibly somebody had helped 
 himself to a mess of the succulent vegetable. We 
 climbed aboard the car and barricaded the end door 
 with cabbage heads. Then we built for ourselves 
 from the green goods a nest the sides of which reached 
 almost flush with the ceiling of the stock car. From 
 our hiding place we could peek about but were pro- 
 tected from casual observation. 
 
 Coupled ahead of the cabbage car ran a gondola 
 loaded with heavy machinery. When the train began 
 to draw away from Angola, a fellow swung aboard 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 33 
 
 this car. A moment after he had concealed himself 
 in the machinery, two other men boarded the gondola. 
 That they were dangerous scoundrels they proved 
 when the freight had attained a high rate of speed. 
 They made the hobo crawl from his hiding place and 
 had him hold his hands aloft while they searched 
 through his pockets. They found nothing worth tak- 
 ing away. Just the same the inhuman hounds forced 
 the poor fellow to leap for his life from the racing 
 train. Man was not built to hop from speeding cars 
 to rock-ballasted track where there awaited him death 
 or lifelong crippling. On a grade several miles beyond 
 the scene of their beastial deed, the robbers quit the 
 train. 
 
 While the yeggs had no inkling that we had wit- 
 nessed their crime, an alert brakeman who chanced 
 to stray over the top of the cars, spotted our roost. 
 He saw to it that we had a stop-over at the next halt 
 of the train. This was Erie, the hustling lake port 
 city of Pennsylvania. 
 
 To avoid running counter of yeggs, we decided 
 to ride passenger trains until we had passed Cleveland. 
 Then the Buffalo - Cleveland district of the railroad 
 was the stamping ground of numerous bands of hobo 
 cutthroats who preferably preyed upon fellow-tramps. 
 
 From Erie we made the "White Mail." Climbing 
 on behind us onto the blind baggage of the crack 
 train came two youths who acted so awkward on the 
 job, that a third trespasser, an elderly, typical hobo, 
 lent them a helping hand while they mounted to the 
 platform. Even before the train had drawn beyond the 
 limit of the Erie yard, from snatches we caught of 
 a conversation into which the trio had entered, we 
 became informed that the nasty tramp had induced 
 
34 hrom Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 the lads to run away from their homes. He promised 
 to guide them to Texas where they would lead the 
 life of cowboys. He proposed other crack-brained 
 inducements for the youths to embark upon the law- 
 less and degenerate existence of the wandering beggars 
 of hobodom. 
 
 "Do you recall the turn which the 'stickups* today 
 handed to the poor bum?" Jack London remarked 
 in a mumbled aside, not wishing that the others over- 
 hear his comment. 
 
 **What has that got to do with these chaps?" I per- 
 plexedly retorted, not noting a connection. 
 
 "Abide your time and you will learn!" he rejoined 
 and then we returned to listen to the lofty air castles 
 which were rated as truths by the guileless boys who 
 with all-absorbing interest hearkened to their tempter. 
 
 At Conneaut, Ohio, a freight train blocked the 
 progress of the mail. Our train halted while the 
 freight cleared the main line by backing over a cross- 
 over switch onto the eastbound track. Then the 
 "Fast Mail" proceded on its journey. The train had 
 attained quite a bit of speed, yet was running none 
 too swift to serve his purpose, when Jack London 
 called the attention of everybody to something which 
 seemed to have occurred on the track at the side of 
 the train. A first view was allowed to the burly 
 tramp who had eagerly pressed forward. The fellow 
 had leaned far out from the car and was lightly bal- 
 ancing himself with the tips of his toes upon the 
 rim of the platform when Jack London gave him a 
 sudden shove which sent the detestable vagrant spinn- 
 ing into space. 
 
 "He's merely cashing in less, by far, than that 
 which by rights he so richly deserved for attempting 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 35 
 
 to ruin your chances in life, lads!" my comrade told 
 the waywards when he finally managed to reassure 
 them that we were their friends and not hobo yeggs. 
 
 Quickly the train attained topnotch speed. Evi- 
 dently, the engineer was driving his engine at 
 fastest rate while endeavoring to retrieve time lost by 
 the delay. While the cars raced onward, in the narrow 
 limits of the coach platform, was enacted one of the 
 strangest episodes I encountered in the course of my 
 world - wide wanderings. Jack London, himself a 
 wayward youth, undertook to preach to the runaways 
 the truth that the worst of parents was a veritable 
 saint in comparison with the best guardian the abyss 
 of hobodom had to offer. It was a matter of two hours 
 ere the express reduced its terrific pace on entering 
 the yard at CoUinwood, located a short distance east of 
 the limits of the city of Cleveland. All the while my 
 hobo mate bravely continued his preaching until over 
 and over again the lads had promised that they would 
 return home' by the first train. 
 
 As the *'White Mail" rolled under the train shed 
 of the Union Station at Cleveland, we dropped from 
 the blind baggage to the ground. Detectives routed us. 
 So anxious did the sleuths seem to lay their hands on 
 our persons, that, maybe they had received telegraphic 
 orders for our apprehension. Possibly the hobo who 
 was bounced by Jack London at the Conneaut cross- 
 over was injured by his fall. Society will slobber over 
 and tenderly care for every hobo who receives a de- 
 served bump. But how many citizens are there who 
 would waste the least attention on a professional 
 beggar who, frequently posing as a workingman, now- 
 adays might often be seen hoboing over the land with 
 from one to a dozen minors whose futures were in- 
 
36 
 
 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 variably and irretrievably blasted by the criminal of 
 criminals who stopped short of nothing. 
 
 In the heat of making our getaway the way wards 
 became separated from our company. And this is 
 my fervent hope: that they and theirs practice toward 
 others the service rendered unto them by noble Jack 
 London. 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 37, 
 
 OUR FIFTH ADVENTURE 
 
 'The Hoboes' Pendulum of Death." 
 
 THIS day we caught a fleeting glimpse of Stiffy 
 Brandon! Having accomplished a clean geta- 
 way from the officers, we thoughtfully accorded a 
 wide berth to the premises of the Union Station. We 
 regained the railroad a safe distance from the 2one 
 wherein for us lurked trouble. While we walked on 
 the grade which steeply rose from the banks of the 
 Cuyahoga Creek, the pride of the Clevelanders, a 
 passenger train overtook us. As the cars flashed 
 abreast of where we stood on the right of way, we 
 saw a hobo dangling from the gunnels — these were 
 the inch-gauged trusses which helped to sustain the 
 weight of the coach bodies. We recognized the rod- 
 rider, though he failed to see us as he held his eyes 
 tightly shut against dust and cinders which whirled 
 about in the draught created by the train. We highly 
 appreciated the fact that the fellow was unaware he 
 had out-hoboed us. Every hobo, including the sloven- 
 liest, firmly believed himself to be the wisest of the 
 wise and to stand without compeer in the fraternity. 
 
 In other respects this was our day of misfortune. 
 Near the summit of the grade we boarded a passing 
 freight train. While the train stopped at Port Clinton, 
 we went to a residence located nearby to ask for a 
 drink of water wherewith to quench our thirst. Re- 
 
38 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 peated ringing of the door bell at the front entrance 
 brought no response. Then we tackled the side door 
 with no better result. And though we knocked for 
 some time at the kitchen entrance none came to attend 
 to our want. Deciding that no one was at home, we 
 helped ourselves to our needs at a pump we espied 
 in the back yard. Then we retraced our way to the 
 tracks. There, while we patiently waited for the train 
 to resume its journey, we were nabbed by a constable. 
 
 'T want you fellows on a charge of being danger- 
 ous and suspicious characters!" snarled the John Law 
 when we vehemently protested against the outrage. 
 
 But he took no stock whatever in our objections; 
 quite to the contrary, he came back by snapping hand- 
 cuffs to our wrists. Then he conveyed us to the 
 residence where we had drunk our fill of water. A 
 typical old maid met us at the entrance of the house. 
 
 "For sure! They are the lads who tried to bur- 
 glarize my home, Mr. Officer!" cackled the ancient 
 dame, identifying us. "They attempted to enter here 
 by way of the doors. Failing to gain an entrance, 
 they were wrenching off the handle of yonder yard 
 pump, when they were chased away by the barking of 
 Atkinson's dog." 
 
 Explanations were in order. We had almost 
 exhausted our vocabulary for words wherewith to plead 
 our innocence of intentional wrong-doing, when the 
 constable, though most reluctantly, permitted our re- 
 lease from custody. 
 
 At this juncture, the freight train began to depart 
 from Port Clinton. An empty box car with its doors 
 standing ajar most invitingly beckoned for a contin- 
 uance of our journey. Posthaste we ran to connect 
 with the open car. But the minion of law and order 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London^ 39 
 
 took after us. Most likely, he saw a chance to work 
 up against us a "case" which could be made to "stick** 
 in court. Fee-hungry as he was, he ran so close at 
 our heels, that we escaped "from his clutches only by 
 a headlong dive from the car by the door which stood 
 open opposite to the one by which we had entered 
 and through which the cop had climbed aboard to 
 capture us. We hurriedly mounted a side ladder of 
 a passing freight car. But to the roofs of the cars 
 went the John Law chasing us and so compelled our 
 return to solid ground. There he raced after us along- 
 side the moving train. We were pressed so closely 
 by him, that as a last recourse, we swung onto the 
 gunnels beneath a freight car. Fearing the risk of 
 injury, the cop refused to dive under the running car. 
 He contented himself to trot by the side of our traveling 
 haven of refuge, all the while bawling commands 
 demanding our voluntary surrender. 
 
 "Never count your fees until youVe got them 
 earned!" derisively sang out Jack London, at the 
 moment when the constable abandoned the foot race 
 with the train which was running at an ever faster 
 rate of speed. 
 
 Onward we traveled lazily stretched across the gun- 
 nels and enjoying a deserved respite from the strenuous 
 man-hunt we had sustained. Quite ignorant of the fact 
 that the members of the train crew had witnessed the 
 fray, we entertained each other with joshing at the 
 expense of the officer whose authority we had put 
 to naught. But the crew, the rulers of the train, were 
 law-fearing folk who doubtlessly looked askance at our 
 wanton defiance of mandates by which they, the rail- 
 roaders, abided. The first thing we were to be aware 
 of, we who were riding in the cellar of Hades beneath 
 
40 From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 
 
 the jolting car, was to behold how a member of the 
 train crew left the caboose which swung at the tail end 
 of the train and came running forward over the roofs 
 of the cars. 
 
 Although we could not see the man who was 
 abroad beyond the constricted arc of our range of 
 vision, we had a means which allowed a close tab on 
 his doings. This merely was a matter of keeping a 
 watch on his shadow to be conectly informed of 
 his designs and whereabouts. The silhouette of any 
 trainman abroad on the cars while under way was 
 cast groundward by the sun or, if after nightfall, by 
 the moon, or should the night be a moonless or overcast 
 one, then by the rays emitted by the lighted lantern 
 which after dusk was carried by every railroad man 
 employed on trains or trackage. 
 
 And this day the sun shone from a cloudless sky. 
 The shadow of the railroader informed us that he 
 was coming forward and that he had abruptly stop- 
 ped on arriving a-top of the box car beneath which 
 we had taken lawless passage. He was a brakeman 
 as this fact was borne out by the hickory brake club 
 he carried. He descended on a side ladder of our 
 freight car. Arriving at the lowest rung of the ladder, 
 he took a survey of the lower works of the car and 
 only when he had assured himself that he had correctly 
 judged the distance from the caboose to our hiding 
 place, he yelled: "The conductor of this train has 
 ordered that you get out from under this train. Right 
 now! Instantly! Do you hoboes understand!" 
 
 "Get us out from under this speeding train, if you 
 can, sir!'* the brakeman was dared by Jack London 
 who was cocky from having defeated the designs of 
 the Port Clinton police officer. 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 41 
 
 We were chased by the John Law. 
 
42 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 The railroader neither heeded London's tart invi- 
 tation nor uttered a syllable in reply. But almost 
 instantly the color of his countenance turned to a 
 livid crimson — a telltale sign of fury otherwise con- 
 trolled. Presently a diabolic grin made an appearance 
 in his face. To us who believed ourselves safely 
 ensconced beneath the car, this hard grin only helped 
 to confirm our belief that no common agency could 
 dislodge us from under the train — at least not while 
 the cars continued to race at better than forty miles 
 an hour. 
 
 Having received our defy, the brakeman climbed 
 back to the roof of the car. We heartily laughed when 
 we saw by his shadow that he was returning to the 
 caboose. There he remained but a brief while, for 
 presently we noted his coming again forward over the 
 cars. But this time he carried a coil of light rope 
 — judging the gauge by the diameter of its shadow. 
 On his approaching to where we were, we discerned 
 a coupling link dangling from one end of the rope. 
 The link, weighty and made of wrought iron, was of 
 the pattern used in the days prior to the universal 
 introduction of automatic car coupling devices. 
 
 As the railroader had done on his preceding trip, 
 so at this instance, he halted when he had arrived on the 
 roof of our car. We broke into boisterous laughter at 
 the remarks of derision which we passed regarding the 
 helplessness of the shack in the face of our deter- 
 mination to hobo his train in spite of his orders to 
 the contrary. But the very next minute our laughter 
 was superseded by groans. By merest chance, I 
 glanced at Jack London. His countenance had assum- 
 ed an ashen-gray overcast. His eyes were protruding. 
 Further, I could hear his teeth clattering. ,Too, I 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 43 
 
 felt myself shuddering. And there were no end of 
 other mental and physical manifestations to prove 
 that we both were suffering in the agonies of mortal 
 fright. 
 
 There was ample occasion for our panic. The 
 shadow play had told how th6 trainman had uncoiled 
 the rope. Then he had deliberately lowered the 
 coupling link into the canyon formed by the front 
 wall of our car and the rear side of the one coupled 
 ahead. 
 
 A faint metallic clinking was heard. It emanated 
 from the heavy link coming in touch with the coupling 
 apparatus of the cars. On our part another throe of 
 most dreadful fright — then Rip! Crash! Thump! 
 Smash! came thunder-like detonations due to the con- 
 tact with the stationary track by the coupling link 
 which sustained the momentum of the racing cars. 
 These detonations alternated with crunching, crushing 
 and splintering which resounded from the havoc 
 wrought to the Iron and wood work of the car by 
 the heavy link which was propelled by titanic force 
 to and from the track, thus faithfully copying the 
 motion of a gigantic pendulum wrecking destruction 
 to everything coming within the radius of its swing. 
 
 As the brakeman gradually paid out the rope 
 which held the iron weight in check and to its work, 
 at a similar ratio our personal danger increased. Near- 
 er and ever nearer approached the hideous weapon to 
 where we lay huddled against the gunnels' cast iron 
 supports which transverse limited our retreat from the 
 path of the tool of vengeance employed in bygone 
 days by irate railroaders. 
 
 I lay farthest from the death-dealing railroad 
 irpn. That is, if the width of a human body might 
 
44 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 be reckoned to be a span worthy of measurement. 
 But on this occasion even this negligible distance made 
 a vast difference in our demeanor confronted as we 
 were by death. Protected by the body of Jack London 
 from the thick shower of debris, I instantly realized 
 our dire peril. I yelled to London to hurl himself 
 from the moving train irrespective of the consequen- 
 ces of such a leap to the stationary right of way. He 
 neither made a least move nor offered a reply but 
 dazedly stared at the ricochetting link — in fact, he 
 was rendered inanimate by terror of the horrible fate 
 which threatened us. 
 
 The paying out of the rope had allowed the link 
 to come within a few inches of where Jack London 
 lay helplessly paralyzed with fear. It was then that 
 I collared my mate by his coat, bodily dragged his 
 nerveless body into my grasp and then, fortunately 
 clearing the rail and the pounding wheels, I flung 
 him to the right of way. Again Providence inter- 
 vened. The train was thundering over the crest of 
 a high embankment and when I let go of London, 
 he rolled down a grassy slope. 
 
 The next instant I was ready to repeat his vault 
 for life. But ere I let go of my hold on the handle 
 of the car's sliding door, I glanced back into the 
 inferno produced by the pendulum of death. Most 
 timely had we accomplished our exit! The flying 
 weight was bending the gunnels as if they were chaff: 
 Exactly overhead of where we had lain huddled, hand- 
 sized splinters were easily ripped off the car box by 
 the cavorting railroad link. 
 
 Then I leaped — a leap with life or death at stake. 
 I performed a neat line of somersaults and did other 
 acrobatic stunts ere, like Jack London had before 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 45 
 
 me, I, too, was deposited at the foot of the grass- 
 covered incline. There we both lay sprawling but 
 uninjured. But so terrific was the horror we had 
 passed through that it was some while before we could 
 shake off the grip of our experience. 
 
 "And say, A. No. 1, didn't we make a hair's breadth 
 escape from the finish of all things mundane?" gasped 
 Jack London when finally he had recovered so far as 
 to connectedly express his thoughts. 
 
 "The Road provides its devotees with such a 
 grand array of dangerous entertainment, one chasing 
 the other so close at the heel, that it is but a matter 
 of days for the hobo to reach the end of his lifetime," 
 I commented contemplatively. 
 
 "That's so!" he blurted out and then a weak smile 
 spread over his wan face, indicating that he, too, com- 
 prehended the absolute hopelessness of the existence 
 we were leading. 
 
46 From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 
 
 OUR SIXTH ADVENTURE 
 
 "The KiUing of the Goose." 
 
 X^ TE walked to Gray town. There we stopped for 
 \A/ brief rest and improved the opportunity by 
 ^ ^ striking out to panhandle a meal. My lunch 
 was earned by trimming the acre-sized lawn of a 
 residence. Returning to the railroad station, which 
 by way of mention, is the pre-arranged meeting place 
 of all hoboes traveling in company, I waited for the 
 coming of Jack London. More than an hour had 
 elapsed ere he arrived at the depot. 
 
 "Been having troubles connecting with a handout, 
 sir?" I gruffly quizzed, having completely lost my 
 patience because of the long wait and the fact that 
 several "good" freight trains had stopped and then 
 without us had departed from Graytown. 
 
 "None whatever!" he reported, speaking as if he 
 resented my insinuation of his being incapable of 
 properly looking after his wants. "Contrariwise, while 
 I was absent, I was continually making away with a 
 really firstclass meal." 
 
 "Tackled a drummer who treated you to a hotel 
 course-dinner which took an hour to finish?" I came 
 back, believing I had struck a straight clew as com- 
 mercial travelers were about the best fellows going. 
 
 "No, my angel wasn't quite up to the generosity 
 of the drummers! Nevertheless, I spoke the truth P* 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 47 
 
 The hobo was a slacker. 
 
48 From Coast to Coast zuitli Jack London. 
 
 London laughed, and when I insisted on hearing the 
 details of his experience he reviewed a bit of ''human 
 interest" of the first rating. 
 
 "There's a woodpile in the back yard and you'll 
 find an ax hanging on the wall of yonder wood shed, 
 sir!" Jack London was advised by the mistress of a 
 residence where he had applied for food. "And only 
 when you have split a sufficiency of kindlings to have 
 earned your meal, shall I call you to the stoop of the 
 kitchen. But if this arrangement does not suit you, 
 you have the privilege of continuing on your way." 
 
 "But, as I was saying, I am starving, marm!" 
 rejoined the vagabond, a plea which proved of no 
 avail as the pertly spoken woman sharply shut the 
 door in his face, permitting him every chance to 
 select his choice of either of her propositions without 
 being embarrassed by her presence. 
 
 Tramps, especially while en route, cannot well 
 afford to miss a meal, even though a task is connected 
 with its acquirement. Too, the outdoor existence is a 
 most phenomenal appetizer. Therefore Jack London 
 accepted the wood chopping job which the lady of the 
 house had set for him as a means of earning his dinner. 
 
 He went to work with a will to reduce the size 
 of the wood pile. This proved quite an undertaking. 
 The material he tackled was cordwood cut from live 
 oaks, thoroughly seasoned in the heat of the summer 
 — a process which had still further toughened the 
 stringy fiber of the hard wood. The ax was not of 
 the sharpest. Yet he persevered as he was buoyed 
 by a hope that the meal would prove commensurate 
 with the great exertions he expended while making 
 a scarcely noticeable inroad on the cordwood. 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 49 
 
 Then he came to his first surprise. It was in 
 the person of the lady of the residence who interrupted 
 him at his task by arriving with a plate on which 
 was placed a succulent roastbeef sandwich smothered 
 with gravy. She remained until he had partaken of 
 the tidbit. While she retraced her steps, he attacked 
 with renewed vim the hearts of oak. Then for a 
 second time she returned to regale her woodchopper 
 with a plate of tasty soup. When she came for a 
 third time, she brought a saucer of delicious salad. 
 Repeating her trips, she gradually fed him a full meal 
 of the best cookery. Finally, she sweetly informed him, 
 that the task he had performed sufficed to settle for 
 his repast. 
 
 "Would you mind telling me why you fed me 
 the dinner piecemeal, marm?" inquired Jack London 
 before he took his leave. 
 
 "But . . . and, well ... I don't care to take a 
 stranger into my confidences, sir!" she blustered, evad- 
 ing an answer. 
 
 "Suppose I would appreciate the information, 
 marm?" persisted Jack London, undaunted by her 
 refusal. 
 
 "Then you insist that " she had halted in her 
 
 sentence and while her cheeks flushed, she acted 
 as if she debated with herself if or if not to 
 tell him, then she went on: "I fed your dinner in 
 courses as this morning a hobo who preceded you 
 here ate his meal and then ran off without touching 
 the ax, though this day, more than ever previously, I 
 needed kindlings for the starting of fires!" 
 
 "Verily, verily! Among oureelves we hoboes are 
 our worst enemies!" mused Jack London as he went 
 from the house to meet me at the railroad station. 
 
50 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 OUR SEVENTH ADVENTURE 
 
 "Shadows of the Road. 
 
 AT midnight and soon after we had wearily trudged 
 into Air Line Junction, the division freight train 
 terminal located just beyond the boundary of the 
 city of Toledo, the fair weather which had prevailed for 
 so many weeks abruptly changed to a drizzly rain 
 that held on. 
 
 Rain-stormy days and, more especially, such nights 
 as this one was, were ideal time for the hoboing of 
 railroads. Then detectives and other implacable foes 
 of the Wandering Willies have retreated from track 
 and train to their lairs — yard or station offices or, 
 if overtaken en route, cabooses or engine cabs. 
 
 The downpour had assumed torrential proportions 
 when a freight train departed from the yard. We 
 scanned the cars while they passed us to find a shelter 
 aboard from the miserable weather. Through the 
 gloom of the night we saw a small end door of a box 
 car to be standing ajar. Mounting to the bumpers 
 of the car, we took note by the flickering light of a 
 match we had struck that the contents of the car 
 was lumber. Evidently an amataur had attended to 
 the loading of the cargo, for while the boards were 
 stacked upwards until flush with the ceiling, a large 
 space remained vacant at the side of the car from where 
 we surveyed its interior. 
 
Frem Coast to Coast with Jack London. 51 
 
 Momentarily the train was gaining speed. The 
 box car, but partly loaded, looked most inviting 
 for a ride through the rain-riven night. Without 
 further delay we climbed aboard. Right then a series 
 of tribulations commenced. The door through which 
 we had entered would not shut. Not even when we 
 pulled and pushed at it with might and main. Neither 
 would it budge when we had returned to the bumpers 
 and there repeated our efforts from outside the car. 
 Finally, after we had wasted the last of our matches, 
 the blackness of the night thwarted a successful search 
 for the cause of the clogging of the door. 
 
 Crawling back into the car, only too soon we were 
 to become aware that it offered but a most indifferent 
 shelter from the unfriendly elements. In a corner 
 and farthest from the spot where the rain driving in 
 through the open end door splashed to the floor, we 
 pitched our berth. The track was a straight-away 
 one for many miles beyond Toledo. Then came a 
 curve which routed the train to run in a direction 
 which brought the downpour pattering against our 
 cheeks. This, naturally, sharply aroused us from our 
 sleep. We scurried for shelter to another comer. 
 But soon another curve sent the storm into our new 
 retreat. There were other curves and more changes 
 of our berthing. We gave up all further attempts 
 to snatch a rest when the floor of the car had begun 
 to resemble a miniature pond. 
 
 The train made a first halt at Ryan where it 
 stopped to take on water. D-uring this interim in the 
 journey, two tramps came to keep us company. The 
 newcomers had searched the whole length of the 
 train to find shelter. At the next stop another pilgrim 
 of the Road joined our crowd. Later on, where the 
 
52 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 train entered a giding, five other tramps were added 
 to our hobo club. Others came and some more until 
 no less than a score of bedraggled tourists were 
 squeezing each other in a space which now became 
 very narrow quarters. 
 
 One of the rovers carried a flash lantern. While 
 he undertook to search for the fault which prevented 
 the sliding of the door, I recognized him to be a fel- 
 low badly wanted by the police. He removed a 
 splinter of wood that had become tightly wedged in 
 • the runway. Obviously, it was placed there by a 
 hobo who feared to be trapped by the shutting and 
 fastening of the door. 
 
 While jockeying to provide a favorable position 
 for his train at the Butler (Indiana) coal chute, the 
 engineer slammed the brake shoes with such a sudden 
 force against the rims of the wheels of the cars which 
 were provided with automatic brakes that the remainder 
 of the train was given a most terrific jolt. This sud- 
 den shock completely disrupted the natural adhesion 
 supplied by heavy weight to the lumber stowed in our 
 car. The hefty boards were hurled forward with a 
 momentum so great, that some of the hoboes were mer- 
 cilessly wedged against the sides of the freight car. 
 With others of our fellows who had come through the 
 accident without sustaining serious harm, we extricated 
 ourselves from the tangled mass of jammed- timbers 
 and crushed humans. Then we beat a quick escape 
 into the open. 
 
 Extraordinarily precipitate was our exit from the 
 box car. Actually we fairly fell over each other to 
 be first to reach the right of way, so anxious we 
 were to remove ourselves promptly from the vicinity 
 of the mishap. We feared an interference with our 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 53 
 
 travel plans and other inconveniences should the 
 authorities decide to hold us as witnesses or, and 
 this was likely, to punish us for trespass. 
 
 While Jack London and I scurried for cover, we 
 heard ringing through the darkness the piteous cries 
 of the unfortunates whom in their agony we others 
 had shamelessly deserted. Still we went on — we did 
 not care to get mixed up with new trouble. Then, 
 by chance, while we looked back, we saw how a gleam 
 of light brightly lit up the interior of the car we had 
 quit in such cowardly haste. This brought us to our 
 senses. Responding to the urgings of our outraged 
 consciences, we decided to return to the car and help 
 with the rescue of the injured, irrespective of the 
 outcome of such a step. 
 
 Although we were running on an errand of mercy, 
 impelled by a natural suspicion to which every hobo is 
 heir, we took every precaution to guard against unto- 
 ward surprises. Stealthily mounting the bumpers, we 
 peeped into the end door of the lumber car. We dis- 
 cerned neither officers nor railroaders in the freight car. 
 Instead we saw by the light of his flash lantern that 
 the yegg, he who was hunted for by the authorities, 
 was busily working over the injured. He was not 
 offering succor to those who with their own bodies 
 had become the living cushions which had saved him 
 from sharing their fate; quite to the contrary, he 
 was rifling their pockets of the pitiful contents one 
 might expect in possession of penniless hoboes. 
 
 Slipping back into the night -v^e hurriedly held a 
 council of war. Well aware that all murderous hobo 
 criminals carried concealed weapons, we decided 
 against giving battle to the degenerate. Instead we 
 ran to the railroad depot which was located nearby. 
 
54 
 
 From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 
 
 There we acquainted the night-operator with the 
 particulars of the crime. He promptly gathered a 
 posse. But ere the avengers closed in, the yegg had 
 escaped from the car from which soon afterward an 
 ambulance hauled away several loads of battered 
 hoboes. 
 
 When the train departed from the coal chute, on ac- 
 count of the hard rain, we climbed back into the lumber 
 car. But this time we crawled a-top of the cargo where 
 the shifting of the. timber had left an ample space. 
 But before we allowed ourselves to drop off to sleep, we 
 barricaded our berth in such manner that we were 
 secure against accident or other interference. By 
 taking this precaution we merely proved that we 
 had practically mastered the lesson of not putting a 
 further trust in an adhesion to each other of either the 
 boards of the lumber or the vultures of the Road. 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 55 
 
 OUR EIGHTH ADVENTURE 
 
 "Old Strikes & Company." 
 
 EVEN before the train was running under a fair 
 headway again, Jack London and I had sunk into 
 sound slumber. From our rest we were awakened 
 by loud commands, roughly spoken. Some one ordered 
 our obedience to the law. Instinctively almost, we real- 
 ized that we were trapped in the side-door Pullman by a 
 police officer as our fellow-hoboes previously had been 
 by the unstable cargo. 
 
 But while we were asleep, at stops and grades 
 there had swarmed into the car a new lot of tramps. 
 By the gray light of dawn we saw that the forepart of 
 the car was packed with hoboes like a can with 
 sardines. These rovers hastily complied with the 
 mandate of the John Law. Their crowding to and 
 crawling through the narrow aperture of the end door 
 obscured the interior of the car to the view of the 
 officer. Grasping our opportunity, Jack London and 
 I wriggled back over the boards and dropped from 
 sight into the vacant space left to the rear of the lumber 
 by the shifting of its upper layers. 
 
 As it was, tlie captor of the others never suspected 
 our presence. Laying low in our retreat, we heard him 
 herding and then leading his prisoners away into 
 captivity. Only some time after the lightest of noise 
 had died away in the distance, we dared to emerge 
 from our hiding place. 
 
56 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 Rightly it is said that no blessing comes to him 
 who trespasses on railroads! Our glee that another 
 time we had escaped the just due of the law, proved 
 of brief duration. Scarcely had we landed on the 
 ground, than we heard some one hail. When we 
 gazed about to see what was wanted and by whom, 
 we recognized in the person of him who had hailed, 
 "Old Strikes." 
 
 Some time or another, but in most instances no end 
 of times, every hobo roaming at will over the land had 
 been forewarned against Old Strikes. Approaching 
 Jeff Carr of Cheyenne in fearless ferocity when it came 
 to dealing with John Tramps, he too was conceded by 
 the latter to be one of their most relentless persecutors. 
 By natural gravitation he came to his abounding dis- 
 like for everything affiliated with tramping and tres- 
 passing. In his day he had been a car inspector. 
 While searching over the cars for needed repairs, he 
 came in frequent contact with every species of the 
 hobo. Therefore, it could not have been otherwise 
 but that a great chasm of hate should have sprung 
 up between him who earned his bread by the sweat 
 of his brow and they who were pure and simple 
 parasites of humanity and who everlastingly and most 
 maliciously sneered at every toiler. One day he chose 
 to vent his spleen on a box car tourist who had given 
 cause for punishment. But the car inspector ran up 
 against a losing proposition when he tackled the tough 
 — he came out second-best from the fracas which 
 ensued. This humiliating defeat at the hands of one 
 who belorfged to a class he hated so cordially, added 
 fresh fuel to the great malice he bore even then 
 towards hobodom. Finally, he resigned from his job 
 and was readily granted his request for a transfer to 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 57 
 
 the position of a yard watchman in the division freight 
 terminal at Elkhart, Indiana. 
 
 There was left no possibility of committing an 
 error in our identification of him who had hailed — 
 hailed us, at that. He was Old Strikes and could be 
 none other. A scarce three car-lengths away he came 
 running, affording a clear view of his person. He 
 was viciously whirling overhead a short span of heavy 
 dog chain. To insure its presence under all circum- 
 stances, this chain was securely fastened to his right 
 wrist. Of all police representatives abroad in the land 
 and waging a merciless war against hobodom, Old 
 Strikes was the only one who had adopted this unique 
 device as a means of attack and defense. His selection 
 of this distinctive weapon came only after he had 
 personally passed through a number of holdups by 
 hoboes who — mark the sting of complete disgrace — 
 had relieved him of his six-shooters and other approved 
 protectives. 
 
 And then Old Strikes yelled for us to light out. 
 While we gazed 'at him for the moment undecided 
 which course to pursue we noted a decided slackening 
 in his running gait. Fellow-tramps had cautioned 
 us to beware of his practice. He preferredly allowed 
 his prospective victim to run away ahead of him. 
 This sly procedure abridged all argumenting and ren- 
 dered his prey incapable of offering resistance. Clos- 
 ing in from the rear, he would strike him who was 
 fleeing from the avenger of the law a crushing blow 
 with the heavy chain. So expert had he become by 
 constant practice with this, his favorite weapon, that 
 never was a second stroke required, not even when it 
 came to an effective felling of the burliest of the 
 trespassers. When he had scored the knockout, and 
 
58 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 then only, he troubled himself to institute inquiries as 
 to the business which had brought the * vanquished to 
 prowl on the premises of the railroad. 
 
 Despite the manifold advance information we had 
 received concerning the methods used by Old Strikes, 
 we lit out like frightened hares. Ours was a case 
 of instinctive self-preservation, for it was the first 
 law of Nature that supplied the overpowering incentive 
 whkh urged our feet to run their fastest in an attempt 
 to score a getaway where most hoboes before us had 
 miserably failed. Fortune favored our exit! Well 
 rested as we were by the sound slumber we had enjoy- 
 ed, we managed to break the record by getting 
 ahead of Old Strikes to and then over the right-of-way 
 fencing. There we were free of molestation at the 
 hands of our enemy, for the fence abrogated the rule 
 of the wielder of the dog chain as his authority was 
 strictly demarkated by the limits of the property con- 
 trolled by the New York Central. 
 
 Although for a \yhile we were quaking like aspens 
 during a storm from our fright and the g^eat exertions 
 of the race we had run, we quickly returned to a 
 normal state of mind. Then elated by our success, 
 we retaliated by mercilessly gibing Old Strikes on his 
 signal failure to accord us the treatment which had 
 earned him the nickname he so well deserved. In his 
 helplessness he promised, provided we placed ourselves 
 where he could legally enact his threat, to regale us 
 to the best in the line of strikes his chain was capable 
 of delivering under his masterly guidance. 
 
 We left the John Law and took to a highway 
 which led off in the direction of Elkhart. This public 
 road closely paralleled the railroad. Perhaps a mile 
 from where Old Strikes still lingered by the fence. 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 59 
 
 Posted hoboes. 
 
60 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 keeping an alert tab on our actions, a most comical 
 sight greeted us. The highway at this point was less 
 than a hundred yards from the railroad fencing. There 
 strung out in a long line we saw no less than thirty 
 men. They were hugging the posts of the fence, one 
 fellow to each post. Though they behaved livelier 
 than an equal number of fleas, yet they held to their 
 queer embrace of the fence supports. Further, while 
 we stood amazedly sizing them up, we could plainly 
 overhear the bantering remarks they passed to each 
 other as to who of them would be the first to quit his 
 job. Despite their jesting and quite contrary to the 
 dictates of common sense, none of the post buggers 
 made a least effort to desert his most ridiculous 
 position. 
 
 Jack London judged the strangers to be lunatics 
 who, so as to have them out of the way for the day, 
 were allowed to follow the inclinations of their unsound 
 intellects. 
 
 "Let us step to closer quarters for a better obser- 
 vation of their singular antics, A. No. 1 !" my hobo mate 
 urged, a suggestion to which I conceded. 
 
 Believing that we were about to carry our safety 
 in our hands, we warily, approached the strangely 
 acting fellows. Nearing their station by gradual 
 stages, we quickly comprehended the aspect of the 
 game they played or, rather, the one of which they 
 were the pawns. They were enacting the role of 
 another of the countless tragedies one continually en- 
 countered at almost every nook and turn of the Road. 
 
 The unfortunates were trespassers who in the 
 course of the preceding night were rounded up by the 
 police patroling the freight terminal. They were 
 tramps and out-of-wOrks indiscriminately taken into 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 61 
 
 custody. For the want of a more convenient and, 
 perhaps, less exposed detention the officers had taken 
 recourse to the right-of-way fencing for herding their 
 prisoners. With handcuffs the hoboes were manacled 
 to the fence posts. To forestall a "jail delivery," one 
 of each pair of steel bracelets was passed through the 
 stout wire meshing and then around a support of the 
 fence. Besides these whom the John Laws had 
 tangled up with law and the fence, not a soul was to 
 be seen. But while we studied to find means to 
 liberate the hapless chaps from their uncomfortable 
 quarters, a large farm wagon drove into view. 
 
 This wagon was drawn by a team of horses. 
 When abreast of where the hoboes stood staked out 
 in the open, the horses were allowed to move the 
 vehicle at a very slow walk only. One of the two 
 occupants — they were John Laws as their subsequent 
 actions proved — climbed down off the wagon and then 
 stepped over to the side of the fence. There he gin- 
 gerly released a trespasser from a picket and then 
 re-adjusting the handcuff, he sent the unfortunate to 
 the wagon where the other officer saw him to a seat. 
 Thus man after man was released from his awkward 
 position, one which with certainty must have become 
 a most exquisite torture to those of the offenders who 
 since dusk had decorated the fencing. Soon the hoboes 
 were collected in the wagon which then, running at 
 a smart jog, left for Elkhart, a distance of several 
 miles. 
 
 Returning to the highway, Jack London and I 
 resumed our walk. It was breakfasting time when 
 we arrived in the more thickly populated suburbs of 
 the city. There we separated to mooch our morning 
 meals. Later on we met at a street corner. 
 
62 From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 
 
 When once more we were walking in the general 
 direction of the railroad station, Jack London regaled 
 me with the details of an adventure he ran across while 
 he was hunting for his breakfast. Refused food at 
 the doors of the well-to-do and the rich and the very- 
 wealthy he had hied himself to the homes of folks in 
 humble circumstances. There a lady had in a friendly 
 way invited him to share the morning meal of her 
 family. 
 
 The Samaritan in petticoats was a poor washer- 
 woman. To still further enhance the glory of her 
 charity, she was a widow who had six children left 
 on her hands. None of her youngsters had arrived 
 at an age where they might have at least lessened the 
 burden which an unkind fate had so heavily thrust 
 upon the shoulders of their frail mother. But on thisi 
 behalf she voiced no complaint. She owned her home, 
 though it was a miserable frame shack. But it was 
 a heaven to her and her little ones as there they were 
 protected from the landlords who relentlessly hounded 
 other poor ones for their dues. But she complained of 
 a black shadow which effectively spoiled her life — an 
 existence already so fearfully marred by hardest toil. 
 She bittery lamented that at almost the same 
 ratio she felt her physical strength waning while 
 fighting the battle of life against the ever in- 
 creasing expenditures made necessary by the natural 
 growth and attendant outlays for her six, from year 
 to year the total of her tax assessment was advancing 
 at a most astonishing rate. She could give no 
 sound reason for this increase of the general tax rating 
 nor the amazingly mounting valuation of her humble 
 abode and that of the patch of slum on which it stood. 
 Construction of new residences and structures of every 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 63 
 
 description was met with in every block, almost. New 
 suburbs were taken in annually and had become con- 
 tributors to the tax income of the city. Still every 
 year had a larger tax rate — one guaranteed nevermore 
 to mount — and new taxing schemes and ever heavier 
 assessments, exactly as if the locality suffered in the 
 throes of a great national calamity. Thus ran the 
 plaint of the widow. 
 
 There and then we had a hearty laugh at the 
 expense of others — they who were encumbered with 
 real estate and other taxable property. We were of 
 the improvident. We were tramps — just plain hoboes. 
 
 Farther on in the street, we encountered a gang of 
 something like fifty men who were lazily sweeping 
 the side walks. The evident dislike these toilers dis- 
 played for their task and their general down-and-out 
 appearance boded ill for an equitable return for the 
 wages they assuredly collected from society for their 
 work. On approaching them, we saw that armed 
 guards were superintending the street sweepers. Then 
 we comprehended their status in the community. 
 Local characters usually managed to make a cash 
 settlement with the law if caught in its toils. Hoboes, 
 homeless and penniless, stoically accepted the second 
 choice of the penalty imposed by those who dispense 
 punishments. 
 
 Yet farther on in the street, we met another mob 
 of twenty street cleaners. And a city square beyond 
 Ithem, we met ten others of their kind. They were 
 ithe latest captures gathered in hoboland. They were 
 marching two abreast securely shackled with hand- 
 cuffs to a chain one end of which was held in tow 
 by a policeman who was assigned to guard the public 
 display of human wretchedness. 
 
64 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 On passing us in the street and recognizing us 
 as hoboes, one of the prisoners, among whom were 
 several of the fellows we had seen handcuffed to the 
 railroad fence, thrice lifted his hands in quick succes- 
 sion. He held his fingers widely spread. Then mo- 
 tioning he drew a circle in the air. Thus he signalled 
 that he and his comrades-in-trouble had visited with 
 the local magistrate who had sentenced them to a term 
 of thirty days with the chain gang. Obviously, this 
 was the average allowance the squire handed out to 
 all brought into his court on a charge of trespass. 
 
 Fifty plus twenty plus ten totaled eighty prisoners. 
 Eighty times thirty times three equaled seven thousand 
 two hundred meals which were to be consumed by 
 the hoboes whose crack-brained roaming for the time 
 being was broken at Elkhart. Other trespassers had 
 been before them on the street sweeping. Again 
 others would step into their job when this batch of 
 convicts had departed from Elkhart without a least 
 thought of the heavy expenditures incurred in their 
 behalf by the hapless taxpayers. 
 
 There is one successful method of combating the 
 lawless element, and most effectively. Everywhere 
 self-supporting highway improvements, farms and 
 workhouses should be promptly established for the 
 reception and prolonged entertainment of all who vir- 
 ulently despise honest toil. While the offenders earned 
 their personal keep they should look to the maintenance 
 of all other public indigents — thus eliminating two 
 expensive luxuries (?) from the public accounts. Then 
 only the day will dawn when the widow with her 
 babes and other poor folks who scraped all their 
 days to have overhead a roof of their own won't 
 discover that such possessions have entailed an ever- 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 65 
 
 lasting financial ''farming" at the hands of public ser- 
 vants whom they, the taxpayers, had placed at the 
 helm of their civic government.* 
 
 *If interested in this phase of the Tramp Problem, read "The Ways of th« 
 Hobo'* by tho author of this volume. 
 
66 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 OUR NINTH ADVENTURE 
 
 "Deadheading the Deadhead." 
 
 AT the railroad station of Elkhart we boarded the 
 blind baggage of a westbound *' Limited." While 
 this train steamed through the freight yard, we 
 kept an alert lookout for Old Strikes. We saw the 
 John Law standing by a long string of gondolas. 
 He espied us at about the same time we caught sight of 
 him. He raised a hand and executed motions which 
 faithfully copied the task of the telegraphers. 
 
 Interpreting the message, Jack London cried : "Old 
 Strikes" is going to queer our ride by wiring to the 
 next station ahead an order to have us taken in charge 
 by the police!" 
 
 While waiting for connections, we had acquainted 
 ourselves with the schedule of the train we were to 
 hobo. The Limited made but one stop betwixt Elk- 
 hart and Chicago. The halt was South Bend. This 
 city was but fifteen miles away, a most insignificant 
 distance when one considered that soon after traveling 
 the length of the freight terminal the Limited struck 
 up a gait of better than a mile a minute. There was 
 no time to be squandered if we desired to avoid our 
 arrest at "Studebaker Town," as the /hoboes had nick- 
 named the city of South Bend. ^ 
 
 At Elkhart, the division point, there had been 
 a change of the engines drawing the Limited. To 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 67 
 
 avoid shortage of fuel while en route to Chicago, coal 
 was carried heaped so high on the tender that the 
 apex of the pile was flush with the top of the coaches. 
 We crawled to the summit of the fuel. From there 
 we peeped downward into the cab of the engine. 
 There we saw that the engineer was alertly watching 
 the track ahead of the racing train. The fireman was 
 busily working coal into the firebox of the engine 
 boiler. Neither railroader was attracted from his de- 
 votion to his vocation by our leaping from the top 
 of the coal pile to the roof of the coach coupled 
 to the tender. 
 
 We wriggled and crawled on hands and knees 
 over the roofs of the coaches until we landed aboard 
 the one hooked rearmost in the train. Fortunately, 
 this was an ordinary Pullman sleeper having a reg- 
 ulation vestibuled platform. We gingerly acrobated 
 ourselves to this platform where we were met by a 
 reception committee in the person of the flagman. 
 Evidently the racket we had raised overhead while 
 moving over the full length of the train had attracted 
 the attention of the shack who, surmising our errand, 
 had posted himself on the rear platform of the train 
 there to await our appearance. As it was, on espying 
 the brakeman, we were certain that we had landed 
 from the frying pan into the fire. Therefore, really 
 astonishing was our surprise when the railroader made 
 no attempt to grab us. 
 
 "What're you doing, guys? Decking my train, 
 eh?" the brakeman bawled just as the engineer was 
 whistling for South Bend. 
 
 ''We're hoboing to Chicago, friend!" he was in- 
 formed by Jack London. 
 
68 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 "Can you square yourselves for the ride?" quizzed 
 the trainman, boldly bidding for a bribe. 
 
 The brakes had commenced to grip the wheels 
 beneath the Pullman — an indication that the train 
 was approaching the station limit of South Bend. 
 Although neither of us had the command of a red 
 cent, I was fighting for time, when I blandly asked: 
 "How much will it cost us to have you see us 
 through to Chicago?" 
 
 "Two dollars for each of you will turn the trick l" 
 he informed us, daring to demand the amount of first- 
 class fares to Chicago. 
 
 Haggling might have resulted in a command 
 for a showdown of our cash, which order would have 
 spoiled every chance to keep beyond view of the 
 South Bend police. To avoid any untimely exposure, 
 I stated bravely : "Lately my pal, here, and I have run 
 afoul of several railroad men who accepted our money 
 and then had us fired off their cars by some other 
 members of their train crew with whom we refused 
 to settle a second time. But we stand willing to 
 take you on your own terms with the understanding 
 that you won't come around for your money until the 
 train enters the Chicago limits." 
 
 The flagman had to be satisfied with our offer, 
 though he showed unmistakable signs that he felt 
 greatly irritated at the harshness of our proposition. 
 He was greedy for graft. We were equally anxious 
 by all means to travel past South Bend as our cap- 
 ture would have meant a return trip to Old Strikes 
 and an unpleasantly intimate acquaintance with his 
 chain. 
 
 Opening the entrance of the Pullman, the train- 
 man bade us enter the car. The sleeper was a "dead- 
 
From Coast to Coast ivith Jack London, 69 
 
 The flagman was awaiting tis. 
 
/t) From Qoast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 head/' as was termed a car, coach, engine, employee 
 or anything else, for that matter, traveling "light" 
 over a railroad line. Trailing the brakeman, he led 
 us forward through the sleeping car into the adjoining 
 one which, too, was a deadhead. In this car our 
 guardian stopped before the entrance of a drawing 
 room compartment. He had us step into the "private" 
 apartment and then took pains to show us how to 
 bolt the door so no unbidden person might enter the 
 narrow quarters. He ordered that we were to maintain 
 strictest silence and then went his way. But before 
 he stepped from the car, we heard him carefully lock 
 both the entrances of the Pullman. 
 
 Our man returned soon after the express had 
 thundered over the grade crossing of the Grand 
 Trunk Lines beyond South Bend. He was furious 
 because police officers had delayed the train several 
 minutes over the scheduled stop allowance. He ex- 
 plained that the cops had met the train in response 
 to an urgent request wired in from Elkhart to arrest 
 two hoboes who were seen aboard the Limited. But 
 neither the efforts of the policemen nor of a mob of 
 common depot pests proved of any avail to discover 
 the whereabouts of the trespassers. 
 
 The brakeman lingered in the drawing room to 
 ask a favor of us who virtually were his prisoners. 
 He humbly pleaded that, barring himself, under no 
 provocation were we to open the door of the com- 
 partment to anyone. The discovery of our presence 
 in the drawing room would have pointed straight to 
 himself as the party who was guilty of a serious 
 infraction of the strict railroad discipline. This 
 might lead to his instant dismissal from the service 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 71 
 
 of the company. He could not well afford this dis- 
 grace, so he feelingly stated, as four minor children 
 depended on his earnings for their support. 
 
 We promised to obey his instructions. Obviously, 
 when too late to undo the false step, there had come 
 the qualms which like inexorable furies haunt every 
 conscience-stricken soul. In the instance of our rear 
 shack the afterthought had taken on the form of an 
 urgent remembrance of the helpless little ones at 
 home. 
 
 The Limited had bowled by La Porte and Gary. 
 While the train was rumbling through the outlying 
 suburbs of the city of Chicago, we heard some one 
 unlock, then open and shut the front entrance of the 
 Pullman. Dull thuds of footfalls announced that who- 
 ever had handled the door had come into the car and 
 was walking over the thick runner-carpet which covered 
 the aisle. The thuds abruptly ceased when the person 
 reached the door of the drawing room we occupied. 
 
 On a preceding occasion when the brakeman had 
 come into the car, even before he stooped in front of the 
 door of our compartment, he had loudly announced 
 his presence. Our suspicion that all was not well 
 as to the party who had entered was instantly aroused 
 when he failed to proclaim his identity. Furthermore, 
 we took quick notice that whoever had halted before 
 the drawing room was endeavoring to gain an en- 
 trance to our quarters by trying the knob of the 
 door. He repeated the turning of the door knob with 
 an ever increased exertion of pressure. Of course, 
 the bolted door refused to budge. Then we heard the 
 metalic rattling which comes with the handling of a 
 bunch of keys. A key was inserted in the keyhole 
 of the door. This we could tell by the glint of the 
 
72 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 key heel as it was turned in the lock. Although the 
 key admirably worked the mechanism of the lock, 
 the bolted door still held fast. The key was with- 
 drawn and another one inserted in its stead. Other 
 keys were tried out until every key of the lot had 
 had its inning at the impossible — to open a door 
 which was securely bolted by means of a latch fas- 
 tened several inches above the knob. 
 
 Then a period of profound quiet ensued. The 
 other party was meditating while we maintained silence 
 likewise. Then presently we were startled by loud 
 whistling by a human mouth. The sound seemed to 
 emanate from within the limited confines of the draw- 
 ing room. So uncannily clear broke the note of the 
 whistling that we involuntarily moved in our positions. 
 This stirring proved to be our undoing. 
 
 A sharp cry rang out through the quietude of 
 the Pullman. It was a shout of victory let out in 
 pure ecstacy by the stranger who was abroad in the 
 sleeper. He informed us that he had whistled, 
 though this was an unintentional act on his part, 
 while he was peeping through the keyhole trying to 
 ascertain what was the matter that the door would 
 not respond. Then, by chance, he had seen us move. 
 
 He continued: "Now, you blinkety-blankety 
 hoboes! Instantly open the door so that I may learn 
 who permitted you to get into this sleeping car, both 
 entrances of which I found to be regularly locked. 
 And don't dare make any further monkeyshinesi 
 I am the conductor of this train and promise, unless 
 you promptly abide by my orders, to hammer the 
 life out of you and then turn you over for further 
 punishment to the Chicago police!" 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 73 
 
 Just then the limited was flashing past Englewood 
 Junction. The next stop was La Salle station, the 
 Chicago terminal of the New York Central Lines. 
 As we were compelled to admit that we were caught 
 like racs in a steel trap, to me as the elder member 
 of our hobo partnership fell the dubious privilege 
 of discovering a means of escaping the penalty the 
 conductor had threatened. We might have meekly 
 surrendered ourselves. Logically, this would have 
 meant that we would have to make a clean breast of 
 our transaction with the grafting brakeman. Then 
 again, we might have offered battle. Should we have 
 overpowered the railroader, we might have penned 
 him in the compartment we quit. 
 
 Undecided what counsel to suggest, I quizzingly 
 glanced at Jack London, to read, if such was possible, 
 the trend of his thoughts by the expression in his 
 face. 
 
 He had anticipated my thought, for in a voice 
 quivering with emotion, he whispered: "Let us hold 
 out in here and in the end take our deserts like good 
 fellows ! All the while we must remember that in 
 our hands we hold the weal or woe of the four kidlets 
 of the rear shack!" 
 
 Square fellow that Jack London was, and was 
 all his days, he had pointed to our proper course. Reach- 
 ing out, I heartily grasped his hand in acknowledgment 
 of approval. No word was spoken nor was required 
 to be said in explanation. We were tramps — mere 
 derelicts, young though we were, who, perhaps, would 
 never understand the boundless blessing conferred on a 
 ' human being by the possession of a happy home. And 
 by the plea advanced by the brakeman, we were aware 
 that he had such a nest. Therefore, we felt it to be 
 
74 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 our bounden duty to protect his identity with all 
 our might — if only for the sake of his little ones. 
 
 We did not return a reply nor comply with the 
 demand of the conductor for the opening of the door. 
 This failure on our part resulted in the railroader 
 losing the last bit of patience he still retained. He 
 uttered threat after threat. Each rank one was yet 
 more rank than the one preceding it. Failing with 
 cursing and threatening us, he resorted to diplomacy. 
 This gave us a chance to reason with our enemy. We 
 tried to argue him away from the notion that a, 
 drubbing of us by him would help matters. Instead 
 of allaying his insistence that we unlock the drawing 
 room, our temporizing talk brought his anger to mount 
 to an even more dangerous stage. He undertook to^ 
 vent his fury by raining fist blows full upon the door.' 
 So powerful were the blows that the impact upon the' 
 door panels made these bend beneath his strikes.'. 
 Then some one entered the Pullman car. 
 
 "Run forward to the baggage master and fetch 
 back his hatchet, RastusI" the conductor bawled, ad- 
 dressing himself to the newcomer. 
 
 "All right, capt'n" came the submissive response 
 to the command by the other whose broad dialect 
 betrayed his African ancestry. 
 
 The threat implied by the request pf the conductor 
 might have been a bluff to intimidate us. Therefore 
 we quietly awaited the next step he would take. Dur- 
 ing this intermission, the expre&s b^gan tQ slacktai 
 its speed. On raising a window of the compartment, 
 Jack London ascertained that a train of another rail- 
 road, which crossed on a grade level with the tracks 
 of the New York Central Lines, was blocking the 
 progress of the Limited. At this juncture, we heard a 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 75 
 
 familiar voice shout through the stillness of the sleep- 
 ing car: "He'ah Fve fetched yuh the hatchet, boss I" 
 
 "We had better open a lane for a sudden retreat 
 from this drawing room !'' groaned Jack London and the 
 next instant I followed his lead and began to squeeze 
 myself through the narrow aperture of the other car. 
 window which I had hurriedly opened for this pur- 
 pose. Luckily, neither of us sustained bodily damage 
 by our drop from the slowly moving train to the 
 right of way. 
 
 When the tailend of the passenger train rolled by 
 where we stood waiting its passage, we saw our 
 brakeman standing in the vestibule of the last dead- 
 head Pullman. Flag in hand, he acted on the jump 
 to protect his charge against a rear-end collision. 
 
 The flagman espied us. For the moment he was 
 dumbfounded but the next instant he made free use 
 of language so rank as to exclude its reproduction in 
 print. The fellow was sore — immensely so, as he la- 
 bored under the impression that we had deliberately 
 hoodwinked him. This we had actually done, as far as 
 our exit by car window was connected with a non- 
 settlement of the graft which he coveted and for 
 the sake of which he had taken such great odds 
 against losing his employment and good name. Grafter 
 that he was, he proved himself an exact counterpart 
 of the others of his brand, all of whom stood with 
 bad grace having some one play a sharp game at 
 their expense. 
 
 When we had quit the Pullman in such haste, we 
 inadvertently came to new trouble. Through the city 
 of Chicago the tracks of the New York Central were 
 raised to a grade which waS all of twenty feet above 
 the pavements of the adjacent streets. Smooth, pre- 
 
7^ From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 cipitous concrete walls which bounded and sustained 
 the elevated right of way prevented our escape into 
 the thoroughfares. This forced us to walk on the 
 elevated tracks to the La Salle Terminal, a distance 
 we found to be nearly a mile. 
 
 The Limited aboard of which we had arrived in 
 Chicago, was yet standing under the train shed. Sta- 
 tion employees were relieving the cars and coaches 
 of mail, baggage, express and other matter. None of 
 the members of the train crew who had brought the 
 train to town were to be seen. With their work of 
 the day rounded out, they had hurried away to their 
 homes. Car inspectors were surveying the braking 
 and rolling gears of the train equipment and did not 
 note our climbing aboard the rear Pullman. Through 
 this deadhead we passed on into the adjoining car, 
 the one in which we had traveled from South Bend. 
 A panel of the door of the drawing room was splintered 
 and the entrance stood unlatched — the enraged con- 
 ductor had made good that which we had lightly 
 estimated to be an empty threat. 
 
 Most justifiable were our mutual congratulations 
 that in the nick of time we had staged a clean getaway 
 from punishment. Likewise we felt greatly elated at 
 having manfully shielded the identity of our railroader 
 from whose home we had averted a tragedy. But on 
 this score we both suffered from a singular aftermath 
 of our adventure. We were certain that on reaching 
 his house, the flagman had regaled his wife and young- 
 sters with an account of his recent experience — the 
 latest one of a long line of tribulations he had had with 
 **bad" tramps who undertook to hobo his train. 
 
 But such, everlastingly, is the way of the world in 
 the matter of according simple gratitude to benefactors I 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 77 
 
 OUR TENTH ADVENTURE 
 
 "Sons of the Abyss." 
 
 BY freely making use of the facilities afforded by 
 the washroom connected with the La Salle Ter- 
 minal, we rid ourselves of travel stains. Then we 
 set out to see the sights of the city. There was a lot 
 to be visited in a metropolis as large as Chicago. So ab- 
 sorbing of interest was our exploring, that the night 
 overtook us almost unawares. 
 
 Then we retraced our steps to the terminal. It 
 was our intention to hobo from the city aboard of one 
 of the numerous evening trains of the Rock Island 
 Lines. On arriving in Chicago we had taken care to 
 familiarize ourselves with the lay of the railroad depot. 
 But this knowledge went for naught as after nightfall 
 the police regulations were enforced much more strictly 
 than those which prevailed at the station during the 
 daylight hours. After any number of futile tries to 
 get away aboard a train, we were compelled to remain 
 trapped penniless by night in the populous metropolis. 
 
 Nevertheless, we did not falter. We knew that 
 every city held an *'abyss" — the stamping ground of 
 hoboes who voluntarily lay over or, like us, were 
 brought to a stay by adverse circumstances. On our 
 inquiry, we were informed by a passer-by in the street, 
 that the heart of the Chicago hobo abyss was located 
 
78 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 but a short city block only from the stately portal of 
 the marble and granite magnificence of the La Salle 
 Terminal. 
 
 In 1894 the abyss of Chicago reached northward 
 on South Clark Street from the intersection of this 
 thoroughfare with La Salle Street. There the distance 
 of several city squares was lined with buildings the 
 owners or renters of which exclusively catered to the 
 trade brought to town or created there by the tran- 
 sient wanderers of hobodom and peculiar to them 
 only. Other districts scattered over, the city held 
 the hangouts of the local vagrant elements and the 
 various subdivisions of the underworld. 
 
 Bounding the Chicago abyss within narrow con- 
 fines, actually it was the east side of the street 
 only which held the "cafes'*, the dime flopping dumps, 
 the nickel restaurants and barber shops and the "mis- 
 sions" patronized by the uncouth hoboes. Across the 
 roadway, on the west side of South Clark, were "cheap" 
 stores, the basement dens of vice of various degrees 
 of viciousness presided over by slant-eyed Orientals 
 and the boarding houses and booze resorts of low-caste 
 Greeks, Sicilians and other human castaways of the 
 nations of the universe. 
 
 Sight hunting had thoroughly wearied us and to 
 seek a spot where we could rest for the night, we set 
 out to explore the abyss. Jack London proposed that 
 we enter one of the numerous rum joints and there 
 become "chair warmers'* until break of day — this 
 meant that we were to roost astride of chairs. 
 
 We entered the nearest of the saloons. Eight 
 drink dispensers held forth behind a mahogany bar. 
 The fellows had a busy time of it attending to the 
 wants of their thirsty customers. "Schooners" of a 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 79 
 
 capacity so ample that they readily held a quart meas- 
 ure of an amber-colored chemical concoction which 
 sailed under the misnomer of "lager beer," were the 
 favorites, by far, of the men who stood lined four- 
 deep before the bar and the hundreds of others who 
 occupied chairs by small tables which were placed in 
 the spacious lobby of the saloon. 
 
 We noted that every adult patron of the groggery 
 displayed a most horribly bloated mug. This con- 
 clusively proved that it was not the roughing of the 
 Road but alcoholic excesses which had marked with 
 beastly countenances hoboes who lacked the will power 
 to resist the temptings of John Barleycorn. 
 
 The precious few non-alcoholic wanderlusters 
 whom I ran across in my world-wide roamings, all 
 had regular features. To cite an excellent example: 
 there is Jeff Davis, him of the Hotels de Gink and 
 renowned as an anti-hobo lecturer, who today is as 
 refined of face, speech and manner as he was when 
 some twenty years ago I met him while we were 
 hoboing in Kentucky. 
 
 Although it was quite late in the night, every 
 "Alcohol Blossom" was wide awake. Those of them 
 who were occupying the chairs and were not yet too 
 deep in their cups, were passing the time by recounting 
 incidentals of the vag business they had worked out 
 during the day. Not a word of clean adventure we 
 heard referred -bo in conversations which brimmed with 
 vile slang, foul language and revoltingly immoral re- 
 partee. 
 
 But no! Near the aisle where we stood studying 
 this scene of utmost human corruption, there sat one 
 lusher who had drowsed away in his chair. A pro- 
 fessional bouncer in the employ of the rummery noted 
 
80 From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 
 
 the snoozing patron — he who while asleep was not 
 wasting his substance. With a short but heavy length 
 of garden hose the slugger struck the sleeper a sound- 
 ing whack which sent the maudlin fellow spinning 
 from the chair. Rising to his feet, the drunkard re- 
 monstrated against the uncalled-for brutality practiced 
 on a fellow who had spent his last cent in the place. 
 He was promptly rewarded for his objection by being 
 bounced into the street. As we had witnessed enough 
 depravity in the short moment we had lingered in the 
 groggery, we, too, left the hoboes* retreat. 
 
 The victim of the slugger had fallen prone upon 
 the side walk. Bleeding from numerous abrasions, he 
 painfully staggered to his feet. Steadying himself a 
 bit, he accosted a lady passing in the street for the 
 price of — a meal. Fearing to refuse the drunken beg- 
 gar, she handed him a coin. But he did not seek 
 a restaurant; instead he returned into the HelFs Half 
 Acre from which he was bodily kicked so recently. 
 There the parasite invested in alcohol the pittance of 
 the sympathetic woman. 
 
 Unwilling to become a prey of John Barleycorn 
 and his minions, we turned to seek refuge for the 
 night at the doss houses which abounded in the abyss. 
 At every place we applied, we were bluntly refused 
 the privilege of performing chores in payment of a 
 "chair" lodging. 
 
 At the farther end of the abyss we encountered 
 another, of the numerous "missions" — establishments 
 that were the rankest graft of them all as their pro- 
 fessional begging was skillfully shrouded with the 
 cloak of charity and religion. Passages copied from 
 the Holy Writ were plastered in lurid colors on the 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 81 
 
 :rhc Abyss of Chicago, 
 
82 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 window panes of the church (?). Also, there was a 
 lamplit sign which advised that for a dime a flop 
 might be bought. 
 
 "Here's the place where we won't be refused a 
 stay until morning!" happily cried Jack London as 
 he led the way into the mission the interior of which 
 stenched heavenward even more nauseatingly than had 
 the other hell holes of the abyss. 
 
 Hoboes, packed like bloaters in a box, were 
 stretched out in sleep upon the bare floor of the 
 place. That the tramps preferred to rest like so many 
 swine upon the hard boards and without a shred of 
 covering, indicated the awful conditions which prevailed 
 in all the other doss houses of the abyss. 
 
 **You have no money, eh?" lazily drawled the 
 clerk who had charge of the lair for vagabonds, when 
 he had wearily listened to our explanation how it came 
 to pass that we were strapped of funds. **It's against 
 my strict instructions to accomodate folks who haven't 
 got the small price we ask for our lodgings. But you 
 look like a pair of healthy lads! What's the matter 
 with you 'throwing your feet' and tackling pedestrians 
 for your needs?" 
 
 The public practice of mendicancy, which, by the 
 way, is the most shameless of the manifold degradations 
 of which humanity is heir, was so lightly thought of 
 by the peeudo ^'churchman,'* that he frankly suggested 
 to us its application. Caught as we were in a financial 
 pijich, we accepted the lure. 
 
 Back in the street we went and there accosted for 
 alms every pedestrian. As might be expected, in the 
 end we struck a wrong steer ^— London panhandled a 
 plainclothes officer who put a stop to our operations 
 by ordering us to vacate the thoroughfare. 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 83 
 
 Returning to the mission, we reviewed our exploit 
 to the shark. Pickings were poor at midnight in the 
 abyss of Chicago, we complained, when Eighteen cents 
 represented the gathering of an hour. As it was, we 
 were but two cents short of the regulation stipend, still 
 the marble-hearted wolf in lamb's skin refused to lodge 
 us. 
 
 Crestfallen we quit the hobo sty. Standing on 
 guard at a nearby corner, we espied the detective who 
 had routed us. His presence precluded collecting the 
 pennies we lacked. Just then, and only a few blocks 
 away, the train of an elevated railroad passed overhead 
 of South Clark Street. The passage of the cars pointed 
 out an avenue of escape from the sleeping city. 
 
 We went to the nearest station of the elevated 
 railroad and invested in fares. Five cents each brought 
 us eight miles to the end of the line of the ''West Side 
 Elevated." This was Oak Park whence it was but 
 a short step to where we crossed the city boundary of 
 Chicago. There beyond the police lines of the metrop- 
 olis we camped by a fire which we had built in a 
 thicket adjacent to the right of way of the Chicago & 
 Northwestern Railroad. 
 
 Peacefully sleeping upon the damp ground by the 
 side of the glimmering smudge, we rounded out the 
 day. As this was the case with all our preceding days, 
 so the most notable memory of this day was the 
 circumstance that we had lived' through another span 
 of twenty-four hours without paying the final toll 
 of the Road — which was to be maimed or be mur- 
 dered by cither the cars or pur fellows. 
 
84 From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 
 
 OUR ELEVENTH ADVENTURE 
 
 "The Rule of Might." 
 
 AT break of dawn we walked to Maywood. Thence 
 we rode the gunnels of a commuter train to West 
 Chicago. Here all freight trains halted for fuel 
 at a coal chute located a mile or so from the passenger 
 station. Near the coal chute was a small country 
 store and having need of matches we stopped there 
 to beg a supply. 
 
 The store keeper favored our request. But of 
 all owners of stores either Jack London or I recalled 
 to have met in our time, none was worse afflicted with 
 inquisitiveness, the common failing of their class. 
 That we were strangers in the neighborhood all the 
 more whetted his curiosity to know more about our- 
 selves. He led off with interrogating us concemmg 
 our points of departure and destination. Then he 
 shunted his attention to an inquiry whether we had 
 mastered a legitimate trade or approved profession. 
 Other questions followed in rapid succession. Their 
 scope covered a vast range of subjects. As he had 
 favored us with a gift of matches we answered him in 
 accordance with the dictates of prudence. Finally, 
 when his native curiosity was satiated, we ventured to 
 ask for information as to when a train might be expected 
 to halt at the coal chute. 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 85 
 
 'Then you're going to sneak your fares! This 
 means that you're vagranting tramps, trespassers who 
 aimlessly chase over the land!" venomously snarled 
 the store keeper. 
 
 "We're out looking to find employment, sir!" re- 
 plied Jack London, in an attempt to temporize with 
 the stranger. 
 
 "That's the one excuse advanced by every hobo 
 stopping at the coal intake, which is a natural hangout 
 for his kind!" he stormed, acting as if pur affairs 
 needed his supervision. 
 
 This accusation was so just, that we were making 
 ready to beat a disgraceful retreat from his place of 
 business, when the native yelped: "Many years before 
 I opened this general merchandise store, I traveled 
 very extensively in the United States and Canada. Yet 
 I never had to descend to the low level of the hobo; 
 on the contrary, I always settled my fare like a gentle- 
 man and only stopped at first-class hotels V 
 
 "This must have cost you a heap of money, sir?" 
 I querried, presuming the store owner in his day to 
 have been a man of ample means. 
 
 "I earned a fine competence while I enjoyed the 
 sights of the continent!" he snapped, at the same time 
 treating us to a contemptuous stare. 
 
 "And your recipe?" chimed my mate, all agog to 
 hear how the trick was accomplished. 
 
 "I disposed of patent medicine by the gallon!" he 
 gleefully ejaculated. 
 
 "Is such peddling so profitable, sir?" I broke in, 
 unaware that the stuff would yield a sufficient revenue 
 to balance the expense account of even the most stingy 
 of the commercial hustlers — men notoriously generous. 
 
S6 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 "I dealt in seven different brands of elixirs and 
 sold the goods in shape of a complete home treatment 
 guaranteed to cure every form of human ill — if the 
 folks took the dope long enough. Buying the medicine 
 at v^holesale each set stood me at eighty-four cents. 
 I created business by hunting out the sick and afflicted 
 and others whom I induced to believe that they v^rere 
 liable to die the death of a dog unless they immediately 
 invested seven dollars and fifty cents for a home treat- 
 ment of bottled colored water and crocked tallow. 
 Women with sick babies and widows recently 
 bereaved of their supports, were by far my best 
 customers!" the store owner confessed, speaking in a 
 matter-of-fact way that was meant to still further 
 glorify the bottomless meanness of his imposition. 
 
 "And it was you who dared to register exceptions 
 against us homeless hobo wanderers ! You, who to this 
 day believe it to be a highly honorable act to callous- 
 ly dupe sick and heart-sick unfortunates!" I cried out 
 in wrath. 
 
 The ex-quack promptly proved himself to be an 
 even worse moral degenerate than we had already 
 judged him to be by his admissions. Instead of curtly 
 ordering us to vacate the store or going for us in 
 the manner of a man who was offended by insult, the 
 coward sneaked towards the rear end of the store 
 to where he had a telephone. Then he held a conver- 
 sation of which, though he spoke in a subdued voice, 
 we caught a sufficiency to forewarn us against our 
 danger. The rascal was pleading with some one to 
 hurry to his place of business where, so he complained, 
 two tramp desperadoes were threatening his life. Even 
 while the fellow gave this foul message to the wire, 
 
From Coast to. Coast with Jack London. 87 
 
 we backed from his store and then looked for an abrupt 
 getaway from the locality. 
 
 As we passed the coal dock we were stopped by a 
 laborer who asked for a pipeful of tobacco. This led 
 on to our inquiry as to what sort of citizen was the 
 store keeper with whop we had visited. 
 
 "A clever kind of a chap who knows how to make 
 use of his tongue to best personal advantage!'* laughed 
 the coal shoveler. ''But he's got a deuce of a brother 
 who is our local deputy sheriff. If anyone does, it's he 
 who knows how to handle hoboes. Whenever the 
 flock of bums waiting at this chute to take trains be- 
 comes too numerous or boisterous for our comfort, we 
 step over to the store and phone for him to come and 
 clean up a bit. Judge Middleton appreciates the ability 
 of the deputy so well, that he always allows him to 
 state the term that the prisoner must serve at the 
 county workhouse which is located at Geneva, some 
 six miles west of here on the Northwestern and ". 
 
 **Come along. Jack, we have no time to waste!" I 
 excitedly yelled, while I pushed my mate ahead, thus 
 cutting short the flow of gab of the coal heaver who 
 unawares had revealed matters of far reaching impor- 
 tance for our personal safety. 
 
 We kept on the right of way of the railroad until 
 a curve placed viS beyond the arc of vision of the men 
 at the coal chute. Then in a straight line from the 
 tracks we struck out overland. Only when we had 
 placed miles between ourselves and the railroad with- 
 out our exit being interfered with, we began to 
 breathe more easy iox we felt secure from colliding with 
 not only the John Law who lorded it over West 
 Chicago but also those of a similar calling, who, so 
 we had every reason to fear, might be waiting to tender 
 
88 
 
 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 us a rough reception at Geneva — and a term in a work- 
 house is no fun. 
 
 We continued southward until we came to the 
 city of Aurora. Thence we hoboed the Burlington 
 Route. Beyond the Mississippi River we had arrived 
 outside the direct jurisdiction of the state of Illinois 
 where we had learned that there were fellows abroad 
 roaming over the land whose sharp practices were 
 scarcely approached by what the hoboes had to offer 
 in the line of outright cussedness — no, not even by 
 the most accomplished of the vagabonds. 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 
 
 OUR TWELFTH ADVENTURE 
 
 "Prowlers of the Night." 
 
 THE day was another most inclement one. While 
 we were about the Burlington (Iowa) Yard of the 
 Burlington Route and there looking to make con- 
 nections, somehow we managed to stow ourselves away 
 aboard the wrong train. We wanted to hobo to Omaha. 
 Instead we were well on our way to Saint Paul when 
 towards dusk we discovered the great error we had 
 committed in our routing. The freight had stopped 
 at a city. As we had missed every meal of the day, 
 we felt quite inclined to let the train go hang while we 
 issued forth from our box car to hunt provender. As 
 charity always shines at its best during the preval- 
 ence of bad weather, we easily supplied our needs. 
 Then we returned to the railroad depot, to find that 
 in the meanwhile the train had departed hence. This 
 unpleasantness, after all, proved a veritable windfall. 
 While we were rummaging about the station for a 
 lounging nook, we learned, and then only by a merest 
 chance, that we had traveled to Cedar Rapids. Con- 
 sequently, we had come a hundred miles from the 
 general direction of the trip we had intended should 
 land us at Omaha. 
 
 Outdoors the rain kept on. This brought us to 
 the decision to camp until morning at the railroad 
 depot. But a telegrapher who was in the station 
 office, must have divined our intentions. Scarcely had 
 
90 From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 
 
 we stretched ourselves comfortably on benches in the 
 waiting room, than he was up and after us with orders 
 to find other lodgings. 
 
 Cedar Rapids citizens were served by four trunk 
 line railroads the depots of which, by chance, had 
 been placed in close proximity to each other. From 
 the station of the Burlington, Cedar Rapids & Northern, 
 by which we had come to town, it was but a step to the 
 one of the Chicago & Northwestern Railroad. But 
 here eastbound passenger trains timed to arrive in 
 Chicago in the morning and westbound ones which had 
 left that city during the evening were due to stop 
 at almost every hour of the night. This meant 
 a lot of local interchange of traffic that, in turn, would 
 give rise to no end of disturbances which would ser- 
 iously interfere with the presence of "bench floppers.*' 
 Furthermore, on account of the rain, a swarm of blue- 
 coats had scurried to the depot for shelter. And no 
 John Tramp would dare hunt peaceful sleep where 
 John Law was abroad under the same roof. 
 
 Diagonally, almost, across the tracks from the 
 Chicago & Northwestern platform was the depot of 
 the Illinois Central. With the exception of the station 
 office, the depot structure was darkened. In the office 
 we saw a fellow poring over bulky ledgers. Soft- 
 stepping about the platform, we discovered that one 
 of the doors leading into the waiting room had been 
 overlooked by whoever attended to the locking of 
 the entrances. Our glee proved to be premature how- 
 ever, for when we shut the entrance after we had sneak- 
 ed indoors, it creaked and so called the attention of the 
 railroader to our intrusion. This worthy raised the 
 ticket window and threatened to call in the police if 
 we did not instantly vacate the waiting room. 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 91 
 
 Unwelcome visitors. 
 
92 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 Nearby was the fourth of the Cedar Rapids group 
 of railway depots. This station was that of the "St. 
 Paul Road." Taking care of this, our last chance 
 for a depot flop, we observed every possible pre- 
 caution against detection. Of all good fortunes! 
 When we peeped into the lamplit office of the station, 
 we noted that the man in charge was stretched out 
 in sleep upon a table. Further, we found every door 
 of the waiting room to be standing ajar. Profiting 
 by our late experience, we noiselessly slipped within 
 doors and then occupied benches. Soon afterwards 
 we became unconscious in slumber. 
 
 Just once, I was aroused by the passage of one of 
 the freight trains which rumbled past on the nearby 
 tracks. Again, a boisterous, rasping snoring that em- 
 anated from the station office harried my rest. And, 
 finally, I was awakened by an unearthly yell from 
 Jack London whom I saw wildly jumping from his 
 bench and then taking after a large dog who did not 
 wait for further experience with my mate's boots but 
 fairly flew, all the while yelping his worst, from the 
 waiting room. 
 
 The disturbance roused the telegrapher from his 
 snooze. Even more awake than we had become in 
 a trice, he tore ajar the door leading from the office 
 into the waiting room. When he saw that we had 
 not waited on orders but were quitting the room with- 
 out a special invitation, he contented himself, after 
 we had left, with making the round of the doors each one 
 of which he carefully locked. 
 
 Jack London and I groped through the downpour 
 until we ran across an open box car. Only when we 
 had crawled under shelter, I took occasion to 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 93 
 
 soundly berate him for having so effectively spoiled our 
 last depot lodgings. 
 
 "You wouldn't have done differently, A. No. 1!" 
 he sharply returned "I was dreaming that I had safely 
 arrived home from this hobo trip. No wonder then, 
 held as I was in the thrall of the pleasant dream, that 
 when the dog-beast began to lick my face, I believed 
 this to to be a part of the regular program of reception. 
 Then the kissing became so persistent that it took 
 my breath away, and, naturally, I awoke. The mo- 
 ment I clapped my eyes on the brute, I realized that 
 I had become the victim of an animated nightmare and, 
 as a matter of course, I landed with my boots on the 
 miserable hound!" 
 
 "Why should a cur want to lavish affections on 
 you who are a tramp?" I wondered aloud, most dis- 
 pirited by the continued disrupting of our night's rest. 
 
 While Jack London wiped his face with a hand- 
 kerchief which he had allowed to become saturated 
 with the rain, he groaned: "At the residence where 
 I stopped for supper, they served country sausage — the 
 home-made brand, fried to a turn. As you well know, 
 no hobo is ever invited to wash himself after he had 
 dined at a private home. Led on by his sharp-sensed 
 nose and a hankering for the rare treat I had enjoyed, 
 the dog believed it to be his proper office to undertake 
 the lacking service by way of licking." 
 
 Although feeling quite ill-at-ease at the cleansing 
 given to his countenance by the vagrant cur. Jack 
 London most heartily joined me in laughing which 
 we intermittingly kept up until despite our water- 
 logged garments we fell fa%t asleep. 
 
94 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 OUR THIRTEENTH ADVENTURE 
 
 'Bad Bill of Boone." 
 
 THE weather moderated while we were away in 
 Slumberland. When the rain broke, the John 
 Laws set out to earn their salaries. Searching 
 through the railroad yards for available "court cases," a 
 detail of the cops stirred us up. On the spot they sub- 
 jected us to a cross-examination. So very plausible was 
 the tale of woe we recited for their especial attention, 
 that they allowed us to return to the box car. 
 
 But oil and water won't mix. Neither would hobo 
 trust bluecoat. The average span of life allotted by 
 the Road to its devotee was an entirely too short one 
 for the hobo to accept verbal guarantees of immunity 
 from arrest if advanced by a uniformed minion of the 
 law. Endless practical experience had inexorably 
 taught John Bum to be chary of John Law and most 
 especially of the uniformed brand. Therefore, we were 
 but heeding a natural instinct of distrust when we 
 surreptitiously deserted our retreat the moment we 
 felt assured that the "uniform bulls" had vacated the 
 immediate vicinity. 
 
 In response to an ugly feeling of uneasiness, we 
 walked from the city. We had marched but a few 
 miles on the railroad track, when the rain storm re- 
 vived and, at that, with doubled fury. While we 
 painfully splashed onward through the absolute dark- 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 95 
 
 ness, we solemnly vowed to ourselves not to leave afoot 
 the next railroad stop, whatever its importance. This 
 was Fairfax, a community so very lean in population 
 that no police cared to headquarter there to earn a 
 living by enforcing the ordinances of the law at so 
 much cash per diem or for each case brought to trial 
 and conviction. 
 
 A depot pest acquainted us with this welcome bit 
 of local news. In reciprocity, we revealed to him the 
 vow we had registered ere we struck Fairfax. Our 
 peddling of confidences proved an outrageous blunder. 
 The two-legged '^Dispatch" lost no time in repeating our 
 information to his friend, the station agent. They got 
 into an argument. Fanned on by some idle remark, 
 perhaps, their discussion waxed heated. The quarrel 
 ended with the station agent oflFering to bet the depot 
 loafer that we would not leave town aboard a train — 
 not while he, the agent, was on the job. The station 
 fly accepted the challenge and backed his conviction 
 with hard cash. 
 
 It was no time ere the word had gone forth among 
 the remainder of the populace of what had occurred at 
 the depot. To properly prime themselves for the 
 round of gossipping bound to ensue from the affair, 
 the natives hurried to the station platform to collect 
 items at first hand. They volubly interviewed us. 
 But while they merely came to substantiate first re- 
 ports, new arguments sprung up. Other bets were 
 posted. In the end everybody from kid to patriarch 
 was gambling hard and heavy on the outcome of our 
 visit 
 
 In accordance with their personal beliefs, the 
 inhabitants of Fairfax separated into two factions. 
 This separation resulted in a rush to the North- 
 
96 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 western depot by members of the opposing canips 
 whenever a train was heard to toot its whistle. They 
 came to guard against eventualities should a train 
 come to a halt. In that instance, they who had backed 
 our exit from town by train busied themselves to fur- 
 ther our departure. Their opponents were no less 
 industrious. They snitched on our whereabouts to 
 the train crew whom they plied with cigars and other 
 subtle inducements to have our sojourn extended 
 indefinitely. 
 
 It was a lusty game of chance which the Fair- 
 faxers had improvised at our expense! In the begin- 
 ning our novel adventure proved a huge round of fun 
 and entertainment. The natives fairly vied with each 
 other in seeing us supplied with every reasonable com- 
 fort. But after a bit that which at first we had con- 
 sidered the grandest sort of treat, steadily began to 
 assume the ugly aspect of an intolerable nuisance. 
 Obviously, we were confronted with a first rate show 
 of terminating our days as communal prisoners of 
 Fairfax. 
 
 Then the "Overland Limited" made a hSlt at the 
 station. Never before had this crack train stopped 
 at the "jerkwater" community. The notable event 
 brought the citizens of the burg swarming to the train 
 side. There they lent willing help with the cooling 
 of the "hot box" which had necessitated the breach 
 of schedule. 
 
 While the folks of Fairfax were furnishing the 
 train crew with lots of water and free advice, Jack 
 London and I seized the opportunity for the staging of 
 our getaway afforded by the spell of local excitement. 
 We tarried on the track ahead of the engine which 
 hauled the Limited. When we thought the time to 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 97 
 
 be drawing nigh that the heated axle was again in 
 shape for a resumption .of the journey by the train, 
 we climbed aboard the pilot of the engine. Thence 
 we crawled beneath the overhang of the boiler exten- 
 sion. There hidden from view of the engine crew, 
 we lay when we scored our exit by train from Fairfax. 
 
 With a full head of steam pumping the cylinders 
 of the locomotive, the engineer sent the belated train 
 scooting over the rails. When traveling "on time" 
 the express made stops at both Belle Plaine and Mar- 
 shalltown. This day we went like a greased streak of 
 lightning by these important points and all other 
 stations on the line. 
 
 The first stop of the Overland Limited was Boone, 
 the division point. It was one hundred and twenty 
 miles from Fairfax to this city which had gained no 
 end of notoriety among the tramp fraternity as the 
 headquarters of "Bad Bill." This worthy was an active 
 member of the Boone police department. At the 
 hands of the Brethren of the Road he had come to 
 his nickname, on account of his anti-hobo activities. 
 
 Eastbound train bummers whom we had met en 
 route, had everlastingly precautioned us against an 
 encounter with the relentless persecutor of our clan, 
 He, so the scared fellows advised, made it an obliga- 
 tion always to be on guard for trespassers at Boone 
 station on the arrival and the subsequent departure 
 of all passenger trains. Because of this information, 
 we were satisfied that where we lay so fully exposed 
 to public view, we had not one chance in a million 
 to escape arrest by Bad Bill of Boone. This meant 
 a drawing down of a stiff penalty. 
 
 Bey<)nd Ames there was a curve in the right of 
 way. While the engine was yet ranging around the 
 
98 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 farther end of this turn, to our indescribable terror 
 we saw where but a few rods beyond the point of 
 the pilot a heavily loaded farm wagon was standing 
 straight in the path of the speeding Overland Limited. 
 An instant survey of the environs disclosed where 
 at a safe distance from the right of way, a farmer 
 was having the time of his life trying to hold in 
 check a pair of wildly prancing work horses. The 
 traces of this team were disorderly trailing along the 
 ground. This fact, the frightened animals and other 
 telltales told the story of what had come to pass. 
 
 The weighty farm wagon had become wedged 
 between the rails at the road crossing. Warned of 
 his danger by the roar of the swiftly oncoming train, 
 the agriculturist had hurriedly unhitched the horses 
 from the stalled vehicle. By promptly guiding the 
 animals beyond harm^s way, the man had saved the 
 team from sharing the disaster about to be enacted. 
 
 A fraction of an instant — and the collision of the 
 onrushing Overland Limited with the farm wagon 
 was a matter of history. Driven on by the titanic 
 force created by the momentum of its immense tonnage, 
 the passenger express, racing at topmost speed, had 
 rammed the comparatively light vehicle and, of course, 
 had smashed it into a mass of wreckage. 
 
 The engineer slammed on the brakes. Having 
 brought the train to a standstill, he came forward to 
 inspect the damage. Only then he became aware that 
 he had carried two hoboes. We were pinioned under 
 the boiler overhang by jammed debris. By a miracle, 
 neither of us had sustained injury, none whatever. The 
 engine pilot, now shattered beyond all possibility of 
 reprair, had saved us from seemingly inevitable des- 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 99 
 
 truction. The cowcatcher had hoisted the farmer's 
 wagon against the front of the boilerhead and high 
 above where we had hid. 
 
 Members of the train crew and passengers who 
 had come forward assisted in affecting our release. We 
 could readily tell by his demeanor that the engineer 
 was furious with anger. Of all unpleasantnesses a 
 railroader most hates to be reminded that a hobo had 
 successfully bummed his train. But for the presence 
 of the passengers, the locomotive driver with certainty 
 would have wreaked his vengeance on us who in full 
 view of everybody with eyes to see, had traveled astride 
 the cowcatcher the full len^h, almost, of the division. 
 
 "Who told you rascals to ride on the pilot of my 
 engine?" growled the engineman, when we had been 
 extricated from the wreckage. 
 
 "How many miles is it from here to Boone, sir?" 
 I countered his question by asking one. 
 
 "Less than six miles!" volunteered a mail clerk, 
 hearing my inquiry. 
 
 "Then, sir, today we have cause to be threefold 
 obliged to you for service rendered. You have saved 
 us from dying a natural death at Fairfax, an artificial 
 one in this smash-up and, best of all, from running 
 afoul of Bad Bill of Boone!" I gayly shouted over 
 my shoulder at the engineer while Jack London and 
 I made haste to vamoose from the landscape ere the 
 conductor, who was on his way, had joined the group 
 of our rescuers. 
 
 "Poor fellows! The accident must have dethroned 
 their understanding !" we overheard the train news agent 
 express himself while we were clambering to the other 
 side of the railroad fencing. 
 
100 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 A highway we followed led on to Boone. While 
 on the way, we made inquiries concerning the local 
 police activities. We heard a lot more of the won- 
 derful doings with which Bad Bill was credited to the 
 detriment of the hobo tourists. What we were told 
 not only made us even more "leary" of our man, but 
 also instilled us with a yearning to have a squint at 
 the notorious hobo snatcher. 
 
 Landing at Boone, we drifted to the railroad sta- 
 tion. The eastbound Overland Limited was due. We 
 were told that Bad Bill was abroad in the waiting 
 room. There we found him surrounded by a gang 
 of boys and men. He was entertaining them with 
 experiences of his career. This held his undivided 
 attention and allowed us a close approach. 
 
 Bad Bill was a wiry built chap of medium height. 
 His cap and coat appeared more in need of soap and 
 repair than were similar garments worn by the seediest 
 dressed of the tramps. Diametrically counter to what 
 we had been told to be his disposition, we found him 
 to be most jovially inclined. Today, his sunny dis- 
 position actually seemed to be brimming overfull. The 
 contents of a telegram had much to do with his burst 
 of jollity. He was passing this dispatch to the round 
 of his admirers and where we stood inconspicuously 
 mingled with the crowd the paper came to us for 
 perusal. 
 
 The message nad come to the Boone police 
 authorities from Carroll, a town located fifty miles 
 to the west. It held the announcement that on passing 
 through, a hobo was seen to straddle the blind baggage 
 of the eastbound Overland Limited. Whoever was 
 the spotter of the unsuspecting fellow, he had staged 
 for him a warm reception at Boone. 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 101 
 
 To Bad Bill was assigned the task of nabbing 
 the free-lance tourist. This was in accordance with 
 an unwritten rule strictly observed at headquarters, 
 as in this branch of police work the officer was firmly 
 believed to stand without an equal in the land. 
 
 The valiant cop took to disguise. He laid aside 
 his nobby uniform and donned the delapidated outfit 
 he was now wearing. Then he hurried to the Northwest- 
 ern station to meet the train. While he was impatient- 
 ly waiting for the deadhead to come in, he was enter- 
 taining the crowd with snatches of his personal exper- 
 ience in connection with the taking of hoboes from 
 trains. 
 
 "Wasn't you ever afraid to tackle a hobo, sir?" 
 weakly wheezed one of the sallow-faced, cigarette- 
 sucking youths who were among the most interested 
 of the officer's auditors. ^ 
 
 "The word 'afraid' was never put in the dictionary 
 for my attention ! The hobo who will undertake to 
 best me, isn't born yet, sonny!" bragged the John Law 
 who had Boone by the heels. "I've got a regular 'lead 
 pipe cinch' on the grabbing of the onery scamps. The 
 defiant-acting of the small fry I collar by the nape 
 of their necks and then, like so many rats, I shake 
 them into meek submission. The burly and rowdy 
 I behammer with my boots and fists until they howl 
 their willingness to comply with my orders, see?" 
 
 The eastbound Overland was heard rumbling in 
 the distance. The whistle-signaling of its engineer 
 for the yard limits of Boone, furnished an inspiration 
 to Bad Bill. He invited all who cared to witness at 
 firsthand the actual taking of a hobo, to follow him 
 to the train side. To a man we scurried after the 
 officer who led us across the tracks beyond the main 
 
102 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 line of the Northwestern. There he distributed us 
 so none of us would miss a least incident of the pro- 
 ceedings about to ensue. 
 
 The Overland Limited pulled up to the platform. 
 Standing at full height upright on the blind baggage 
 of the mail car, we espied the hobo for whom the Law 
 was laying. He was built of such magnificent physical 
 proportions that his bulk would have easily made two 
 men of the size of Bad Bill. The smoke-begrimmed 
 fellow acted most nonchalantly. He took no notice 
 whatever of our presence. He seemed to desire to 
 create the impression that instead' of his being a trav- 
 eling lawbreaker he was a person of national renown 
 who had condescended to pay a state visit to the 
 Boonites. 
 
 Ere the train had come to full halt, Bad Bill 
 commenced our initiation in the craft of hobo grabbing. 
 He swung upon the lowest of the steps leading up to 
 the platform occupied by his nibs, the hobo. The 
 officer bellowed a peremptory demand to hear by 
 whose permission the stranger was traveling aboard 
 the train by a method universally deemed to be an 
 illegal procedure. The tramp contemptuously ignored 
 both the inquiry and the man who had asked the 
 information. 
 
 Of all things, the stranger could not well have 
 selected a more stinging affront to Bad Bill than to 
 treat this particular John Law with an insolent ignoring 
 of his presence. Exactly like a vast majority of the 
 lesser lights connected with the police calling, Bad 
 Bill was thoroughly obsessed with the lunatic notion 
 that the respect which in reality the "citizens" accord- 
 ed to him as the representative of the law, was rendered 
 in humble tribute to and as a testimony of his vast 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 103 
 
 *How dare you, sir?" shrieked the station agent. 
 
104 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 superiority, in both person and personality, above the 
 "common herd." 
 
 Instantly, almost, fury uncontrollable was plainly 
 depicted by the expression which appeared in the face 
 of Bad Bill. The next moment saw him mounting to 
 the platform of the mail car. Then without waste of 
 words, he headlong sailed into the haughty vagabond. 
 In all his living days the officer never committed a 
 worse error than when he undertook to bodily punish 
 the burly offender. He came to his Waterloo at double- 
 quick. He received in return a telling blow for every 
 one that, because of his shorter - reach, fell short of 
 landing on his hobo opponent. Becoming warmed up 
 to the scrap which had been forced on him, the Wan- 
 dering Willie promptly adopted the lead in the pummel- 
 ing. Sure hitters and hard landers were the strikes 
 he liberally doled out, and then by making use only 
 of his open hands, as we noted with greatest amaze- 
 ment. In no time, almost, he had Bad Bill laid out in 
 unconsciousness. 
 
 When the train had come to a complete standstill, 
 the conqueror of Bad Bill dragged the limp form of 
 the vanquished officer to the depot platform and then 
 in through an open door leading into the station office. 
 To the infinite dismay of the station agent and his 
 sniffy-faced crew of assistants, the fellow deposited his 
 human burden in the center of the office floor. 
 
 This uninvited proceeding proved entirely too 
 strong for the nerves of the agent, for he angrily 
 shrieked: "How dare you plank down this drunk 
 in here, my private room, sir?" 
 
 *T am quite sure this depot loafer tackled the 
 wrong man when he tried to teach me the first railroad 
 commandment : Thou shalt not trespass*," lightly laugh- 
 
From Coast. to Coast with Jack London. 105 
 
 ed the big bruiser who was laboring to restore the 
 senses of his victim, ignoring the sharp remark of the 
 agent. 
 
 "But you're in the wrong! This isn't a bum. It's 
 Bill Sanders, one of our Boone policemen!" corrected 
 one of the clerks who had identified the prostrate form. 
 
 "And who are you that you dared to down our 
 'Bad Bill/ as we locally know him best?" the stranger 
 was challenged by a telegrapher. 
 
 "But recently I was appointed division detective 
 with headquarters at Denison. I took after a hobo 
 who attempted to bum the Overland Limited. While 
 I routed the trespasser off the coaches, the train 
 had gained headway so rapidly that I did not care 
 to incur the great risk of jumping to the ground. Nor 
 did I wish to delay the train by stopping it. I came 
 on to Boone where I was troubled by this character 
 who tried to read me the riot act!" declared the 
 newcomer who produced credentials which verified 
 his official connection with the Chicago & North- 
 western. 
 
 4 4'T^^^ ^^^t ^^^ th® crowd is on me boys!" whiQ,e4 
 I Bad Bill when on regaining the full use of his 
 
 •*• intellect the various incidents of the fracas 
 were exhaustively explained to him by the railroad 
 sleujth. 
 
 When a messenger had retumied with a box ol 
 smokes, Sanders personally sav/ to the distribution of 
 the cigars. He joined in the smoking and the laughing 
 — both at his expense — by the others. Later on rail- 
 
106 
 
 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 road sleuth and city cop quit the station arm in arm. 
 They were trailed to police headquarters by a motley 
 mob who went to hear one more repetition of how 
 the John Laws came to battle to a decisive knockout. 
 In the meanwhile, Jack London and I hung to 
 the neighborhood of the railroad depot. Properly post- 
 ed as' we were on the whereabouts of the two enemies 
 we had most to fear, we boldly hoboed the first passen- 
 ger train leaving Boone and unmolested traveled to 
 Omaha. While on the way, we derived pleasurable 
 entertainment from the working out of the excuse 
 Bad Bill had to offer to his so oddly acquired friend 
 — he who had so niftily blackened both his eyes and 
 land- wide reputation — of how it came to pass that 
 there was an audience at hand and that two of the 
 otherwise terribly shocked auditors had vociferously 
 applauded the going-down in complete defeat of the 
 star hobo snatcher of Boone. And the two who had 
 so savagely appreciated the spectacle were us — Jack 
 London and yours truly. 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 107. 
 
 OUR FOURTEENTH ADVENTURE 
 
 "Old Jeff Carr o£ Cheyenne/' 
 
 NIGHT had shrouded the landscape of Nebraska 
 when we strayed into the thoroughfares of the 
 city of Omaha. We were penniless — a chronic 
 condition which never worried hobodom. Accosting 
 passers-by in the street for the price of a flop, some 
 one referred us to a "Workingman's Home." 
 
 Both Jack London and I had quite frequently 
 stopped at a ''home" or "barrack" of this sort. They 
 were to be encountered in every large city. Commonly 
 they were presided over by a superintendent, usually 
 a suavely spoken chap-of-the-world. The superintend- 
 ent, quite often, was a proprietor of the doss house 
 the revenues of which paid him a fat salary. This 
 income was derived by furnishing a "police-proof" sty 
 to hoboes. Ofttimes a dive and groggery was 
 had in connection with the lodgings. 
 
 Knowing the kind of reception which awaited all 
 comers without funds, while we were on our way to 
 the home we showed foresight by panhandling enough 
 alms to meet the price of the kippings. But we found 
 the place to be in a class all its own. Spick and 
 span with cleanliness the institution was a credit to 
 Omaha. 
 
 At the home we bumped into Stiffy Brandon, he 
 who had rascally decamped with our belongings. No, 
 he did not threaten to sweep the floor of the doss 
 
108 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 joint with us in repayment o£ the mauling we had 
 administered to him at the Schenectady water plug. 
 Contrariwise, he performed this task by means of a 
 regulation broom. This indicated that he had accepted 
 public employment — he was an apostate of hobodom 
 as he had broken the tenet of the Road which proscribed 
 manual tasks as the worst possible disgrace to be 
 incurred by a hobo. 
 
 Despite our scowls at his breach of the sacred 
 tramp tradition, Stiffy Brandon good-naturedly grinned 
 at us when we had called his attention to our presence. 
 Then he greeted us and did so in a spirit of cordiality. 
 Without waiting for our invitation, he voluntarily ac- 
 counted for his abandonment of the Wander-Path. 
 
 While bent on meeting us, Stiffy Brandon had 
 come to Omaha. There he had found his way to the 
 '*Workingman*s Home." Confessing himself without 
 funds, the superintendent not only provided him with 
 a free lodging but also with needed meals. In the 
 morning, as this was the superintendent's wont to do 
 with fundless customers, he was lectured to on the 
 endless wrong of the damnable hobo existence. The 
 words of him who understood the lack of will power 
 in the other, struck a responsive chord in the soul 
 of Brandon. The tramp volunteered to mend his ways 
 — some day. Well aware that promises were readily 
 broken if made under the stress of a fleeting emotion 
 of repentance, the good man offered to give employ- 
 ment to the contrite fellow. A better job was promised 
 when the erstwhile yegg had proven that he had con- 
 quered the curse which had made of him a football 
 of Satan. Thus ran the revelation of Stiffy Brandon 
 who then resumed the task he had neglected to visit 
 with us. 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 109 
 
 Current magazines and newspapers lay scattered 
 over the table which graced the center of the lobby. 
 Jack London and I took chairs by the table. Both 
 were scanning the contents of the evening dailies, when 
 we heard a soft whistling. Noting that it was Bran- 
 don who had whistled to attract the attention of young 
 London, I held aloof to await developments. When 
 I saw my hobo mate leave his chair to meet the 
 ex-tramp, I made believe to be yet intent on studying 
 the columns of the newspaper screened behind which 
 I was taking observations. 
 
 "Although Stiflfy Brandon has temporarily changed 
 his vocation, he's still up to hobo meannesses !" I mused 
 aloud when I saw the two put their heads together, 
 believing the fellow was about to snare my companion 
 and then break faith with his benefactor, 
 
 "There isn't a darn thing but misfortune to be 
 gained by anybody on the Road. The sooner you 
 understand this outcome of your loafing over the land, 
 a confounded nuisance to everybody, the quicker will 
 you beat a bee line to where you belong by rights, kid !" 
 preached Brandon to the wayward. 
 
 In this way his talk went on until brought to an 
 abrupt termination by the clerk in charge of the office 
 who took exception to the fraternizing of the employee 
 with a guest of the doss dump. All the while the 
 reformed wanderluster was addressing himself to my 
 pal, I held the peace. Words like his, coming as 
 they did from a wakened conscience, had the vital ring 
 of truth which was totally lacking in the pratings 
 against the Road by folks who had come to their 
 knowledge of its harmfulness either by hearsay or 
 superficial investigation. 
 
110 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 Traveling beyond Omaha we left aboard a box 
 car over the Union Pacific System. We held down 
 this car for three hundred miles beyond the Missouri 
 River where hunger compelled us to break our trip 
 at North Platte, the division point. The racket we 
 raised while departing from our hiding place, brought 
 us to the attention of a yard watchman. But, wonder 
 of wonders, though he frisked the contents of our 
 pockets for contraband articles, he failed to place us 
 under arrest. Further, a queer creature we judged him 
 by reason of this unheard-of act, the officer congratulated 
 us on hoboing into town on another day than Monday. 
 When we acted surprised, he explained matters. So lim- 
 ited was the capacity of the local lock-up and so exceed- 
 ingly heavy was the hobo patronage burdening North 
 Platte, that the fathers of the town had set aside Monday 
 for the weekly "loading" of the calaboose. Consequent- 
 ly, after Monday for the rest of the week there was no 
 cause for the grabbing of Box Car Willies. Therefore 
 we not only went scot-free but also, what of our good 
 fortune, were the recipients of heartiest congratulations 
 by the sleuth, who for all that, eyed us very savagely. 
 
 Eighty miles westward we came to Julesburg. We 
 had so timed our arrival at this junction point where 
 a tap line branched southward to Denver, that we 
 landed after nightfall. Forewarned of a deputy sheriff 
 who held high carnival at Julesburg at the expense of 
 trespassers, for the time being our scare proved ground- 
 less. Our enemy was on the sick list and was unable 
 to attend to his vocation. Perhaps his tribulation 
 saved us from becoming guests of the municipality 
 which in connection with a bread and water diet main- 
 tained a rockpile for the entertainment of lawless 
 transients picked up by the deputy officer. 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. Ill 
 
 Thence we rambled on to Cheyenne. Again we 
 were cautioned to beware of getting in on the wrong 
 side of the law. At a grade some miles from the 
 capital of Wyoming we quit the cars and walked to 
 the city. This was the sufficient cause for our *'safety- 
 first" precaution: Old Jeff Carr headquartered at 
 Cheyenne. His was the reputation of being the rail- 
 road sleuth most violently execrated by all of hobodom. 
 None excelled him. Only the "Nigger of Galesburg," 
 a colored man who was a yard watchman of the Bur- 
 lington Route, "Big Four Brim" of Mattoon, Illinois, 
 "Pap Papineau" and "Roughy Caruthers" both with 
 the New York Central and stationed at Cleveland, 
 Ohio, and Erie, Pa., respectively, approached Jeff Carr 
 for dare-devil fearlessness in combating the vicious 
 element of the hoboes. 
 
 In his day, Old Jeff Carr had served a term as 
 the high sheriff of Laramie county, of which the city 
 of Cheyenne is the county seat. Likewise, he had 
 filled no end of other offices, civic and public, in tes- 
 timony of the highest esteem in which he was held by 
 his fellow-citizens. But from that day in 1890 whereon 
 he entered the police department of the Union Pacific 
 System really dated the stranglehold on the affection 
 of his fellow-citizens which he faithfully maintained 
 until, ripe in years of life and ^ch in honors, he died 
 a natural dea-th in 1916. An estimate of the extent 
 of Carr's service migiit be ^garnered from data kicidly fur- 
 nished the author by the present dbietf of police of Chey- 
 enne : no less than ten thousand tramp criminals who, 
 freely mingling with the hoboes, patronized the 
 main route of transcontinental vagabond travel, were 
 brought to justice by Old Jeff Carr. 
 
112 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 "Buffalo Bill" and "Old Jeff Carr" were the two 
 citizens of the west most prominent in the limelight 
 of public attention. Their careers were an open study 
 for all concerned. However, there was a vast difference 
 betwixt the manner of reverence accorded to each by 
 those personally most interested in keeping tab on the 
 affairs of these national characters. Folks fairly fell 
 over each other to pay homage to Buffalo Bill. On 
 the other tack, Wandering Willies scattered like chaff 
 before the wind to avoid contact with Old Jeff Carr. 
 ' The famous railroad detective catered to a personal 
 hobby. Although he, who was a six-footer, never 
 toted a revolver, he had a hankering to collect shooting 
 irons personally taken by him from the pockets of 
 hoboes. Among railroaders there is afloat a good 
 story best illustrative of what manner of man was 
 Old Jeff Carr and those he went after in the name 
 of law and order. 
 
 Word was wired in from Sidney, Nebraska, that 
 a mob of starving "out-of-works" had taken forcible 
 possession of an empty box car in a freight train bound 
 for Cheyenne. Making use of his handpower track 
 speeder, Carr met the train some miles beyond the 
 city limits. He climbed into the car box pre-empted 
 by the "workingmen" who acted and looked every whit 
 capable of tearing to pieces any soul daring to interfere 
 with their plans. 
 
 "I'm your friend Old Jeff Carr, boys!'* thundered 
 the ctfficer, "anid the faster you face towards the sides 
 of this car and then stretch your arms ceilingward, the less 
 likely you will be of receiving right here the thprough 
 thrashing you ought toVe got when first the crazy notion 
 entered your numb skulls that trespass laws were passed 
 to be brutally ignored by the likes of you !" 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 113 
 
 Following suit to his warning, the sleuth collared 
 a burly bum who, glowering his fiercest, stood within 
 handiest reach. Perhaps of all humanity, hoboes were 
 the ones who most disliked to endure a sound trouncing. 
 Aware of the foremost trait of the men he dealt with, 
 the detective had correctly judged his chances of mak- 
 ing the bald bluff protect him from coming to harm. 
 Neither was it necessary to lambast the animated rag 
 bundle he had grabbed hold of nor to apply a similar 
 persuasive to obtain the obedience of his companions. 
 The mere announcement of who he was sufficed. As 
 if actuated in this by common impulse, straight over- 
 head went all hands while their owners meekly faced 
 towards the sides of the car. 
 
 An inspection by Old Jeff Can* of the pockets 
 of the "laborers" produced most astonishing returns. 
 From the belongings of the thirty vags who were in 
 the car, twenty-two six-shooters were extracted to be 
 added to Carr's collection of concealed weapons taken 
 from "harmless'* wayfarers who, supposedly, would not 
 hurf J, baby. With the help of the trainmen the human 
 rattlesnakes were knocked off the car. Then the train 
 resumed its trip. 
 
 Downtown we ran against a landmark of Cheyenne. 
 This was the notorious "Silver Dollar" saloon. , The 
 dram shop derived its classy distinction from the fact 
 that silver dollars were cemented in a snug cavity left 
 for the insertion of one of the coins in the center of 
 each of the porcelain tiles of ,which the floor of the 
 lobby and the sidewalk fronting the saloon were 
 constructed. 
 
 To us the silver dollars underfoot proved an at- 
 traction almost irresistible. All through the long day 
 we were dragged by slow freight from Julesburg with- 
 
114 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 out having tasted a mouthful of food. And we had 
 finished one hundred and forty miles by walking from 
 the railroad grade, a distance of eight miles and a fine 
 appetizer. Our hike had led through a section where 
 persistent panhandling had brought no reward what- 
 ever. And now when it was quite late in the night, 
 a time when battering for alms was at its worst, 
 we were completely fascinated by the lure of the 
 shiny dollars we found planted without guard in the 
 public thoroughfare. 
 
 We promptly realized that the possession of a 
 single one of the hundreds of dollars we saw wantonly 
 placed underfoot, would have purchased several sub- 
 stantial feasts for us poor devils who were famishing. 
 We took note that the streets were empty of pedes- 
 trians, though everywhere saloons, restaurants and 
 gambling hells were running at full blast. Not even 
 a snooping bluecoat was in sight. The lay of the 
 game, therefore, augured so well that we decided to 
 become acquainted with the good cash which in the 
 starlight of the night was so temptingly spread out 
 for our abstracting. 
 
 Using our pocjcet knives each of us tackled one of 
 the shiners. We dug aad pried away endeavoring 
 to lift the dollars from their receptacles. But the 
 cement with which the coins were fastened had become 
 as adamant as granite. The blades of Jack London's 
 knife snapped off slaort. All the blades but one of 
 my knife had been sacrifice tp 'gammon when t±ie 
 dollar I wa^ after came ivom its setting. 
 
 Scarcely had I extracted the coin frpm its resting 
 place in the tile, when we heard some one shout: 
 "Come in here, lads! The 'Silver Dollar' will stand 
 the treat of the crowd! IBut you might have saved all 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 115 
 
 /"ST^J/^ 
 
 We appropriated one of the dollars, 
 
116 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 concerned a lot of trouble had you applied at the bar 
 for your needs of the dollars of which we always keep 
 on hand an ample stock for free souvenirs to whoever 
 cares to ask for them I" 
 
 Glancing about to locate the speaker, we were 
 dumbstruck with shame when we became aware that 
 it was the bartender of the groggery who had addressed 
 us. In company with patrons he had quietly stepped 
 before the entrance of the dram shop. The keen inter- 
 est displayed by these spectators and their beaming 
 countenances best proved how well they enjoyed our 
 burgling operations. 
 
 To vastly add to our discomfiture, we espied a 
 bluecoat swinging into the street from around a nearby 
 comer. Fearing arrest, we did not wait for orders to 
 quit the locality. 
 
 The dollar we had appropriated was another suf- 
 ficient incentive for a sudden removal of our persons 
 beyond the clutches of the John Law who, suspicion- 
 ing our motive, had taken after us who ran for dear 
 life to avoid the serving of a prison term for the 
 coin. We struck an air line to the railroad tracks 
 where the police officer continued otir chase until he 
 had driven us well beyond the city limits. 
 
 While we executed the fast-clip getaway from 
 arrest, we dropped the trade-mark of the "Silver 
 Dollar" saloon. Its weight was hampering our flight 
 from our pursuer. Truthfully stating, we lost nothing 
 worth, while when we generously shed ourselves of 
 the trouble-maker — which was a silver-plated, cast-iron 
 rqjroduction of the dollar of the realm. 
 
From Cvast to Const with Jack London. 117 
 
 OUR FIFTEENTH ADVENTURE 
 
 '^Sidetracked in the Land of Manna.' 
 
 LEAVING Cheyenne to the rear, we walked imto 
 the night. It was an up-hill hike in a double 
 sense — we were walking on empty stomachs 
 and climbing the steep grade which continued skyward 
 all the way to the Continental Divide. By break of 
 day we had come nineteen miles to Granite Canyon. 
 There the lady of the section house provided us with 
 a stack of hot cakes in return for supplying her with 
 a stack of kindlings. Not knowing when a train would 
 make a halt at the flag stop of a station, we resumed 
 our march. So crooked was the right of way of the 
 Union Pacific that we substantially shortened the 
 mileage by tacking across the country. At Sherman's 
 Cut, eight thousand feet above sea level, we reached 
 the continental apex where one stream flows eastward 
 to the Atlantic and another westward to the Pacific. 
 Right beyond Sherman Tunnel was Tie Siding where 
 we blackened the kitchen range of the station agent 
 for a flop overnight. In the morning we rambled by 
 train to Laramie, the division point. 
 
 Beyond Laramie was a howling desert and wilder- 
 ness. Fortunately, we made fast time over the high 
 plateau which stretched westward from the Rocky 
 Mountains through to the Sierra Nevada. At Green 
 River a switchman who chanced to hear our urgent 
 
118 From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 
 
 cries, which we had kept up for many hours, rescued 
 us from the firebox of a deadhead engine the door of 
 which had swung shut soon after we had crawled 
 within at Rawlins. Onward we rambled until we 
 arrived in Utah, the stronghold of the Mormons. 
 
 At Ogden after dark we hid ourselves in a box 
 car loaded with paving brick. To insure against inter- 
 ference with our ride while we were crossing the 
 Great American Desert, a passage most dreaded by 
 hoboes, we piled so many of the weighty bricks against 
 the doors of the car which we had shut, that no rail- 
 roader could possibly have moved them a fraction of 
 an inch — not even a graft-greedy shack. 
 
 The freight train made excellent progress. On 
 awakening in the morning we believed the train to be 
 still running at better than fifty miles an hour. We 
 gauged the rate by the usual method employed by 
 tramps who quickly became expert in estimating speed 
 by the jolting of the car they were hoboing. 
 
 "Let's see if we passed Montello and have entered 
 the state of Nevada, Jack!" I said, greeting my hobo 
 mate when the wild pitching of the car prevented 
 further sleep. 
 
 Peeping through a crack of the door, I was most 
 amazed to note .that the train was "making'* less than 
 ten miles an hour. Too, I saw that one measly 
 wire slovenly strung on miserable looking telepraph 
 poles had, somehow, taken the place of the fifty cleanly 
 strung wires which, suspended from the six cross-arms 
 of stately poles, had cared for the transcontinental 
 telegraph service. In dismay I called to Jack London 
 to come and help me unravel the riddle. We cleared 
 up the mystery at the first milepost we passed. The 
 directions we saw painted on the post explained that 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 119 
 
 we had strayed from our route of roving. We had 
 missed connecting with the Central Pacific and were 
 now traveling over the Rio Grande Western, now 
 the Southern Pacific and Denver & Rio Grande, res- 
 pectively. 
 
 To make a bad blunder still worse, we had been 
 dragged deep down onto the Marysvale tap of the 
 Rio Grande. The milepost also told that the next 
 stop was Marysvale, the terminal of the "jerk" line. 
 
 To vastly increase our tribulations, on arrival at 
 Marysvale we were to discover that only one train 
 ran over the branch railroad. This train was a mixed 
 one, meaning one caring for both freight and passenger 
 traffic. Furthermore, it ran on alternating days over 
 the road, one day arriving from and the following day 
 leaving for Thistle, the junction with the main line. 
 
 A rare event was the freight train that had 
 deposited us at the end of the tap line. Sometimes 
 many months intervened ere sufficient freight cars had 
 accumulated at Ogden, Salt Lake City and Thistle to 
 permit the despatching of an "extra" run. 
 
 When by diligent inquiries we had ascertained 
 all these items, we set up a grand howl. We weren't 
 a bit backward in expressing our personal opinion of 
 jerk lines in general and the one we had inadvertently 
 strayed on, in particular. It so happened that a -brake- 
 man of the mixed train — which was shunting cars and 
 coaches at the station — carefully took stock of our 
 vehement denunciations of his '^bread aaid butter" line. 
 
 It was this trainman wko routed us from the caily 
 open one of three box oars which the mixed train took 
 away on its departure from Marysvale. We vainly 
 tried to square our account with the shack and while 
 we argued with him, the conductor got hip to our 
 
120 From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 
 
 doings. All this held our undivided attention and 
 while we were working with the crew of this train, 
 we allowed the extra freight to depart without us from 
 Marysvale. Furthermore, ere we were done telling 
 the railroaders of the mixed run what we thought of 
 them, they had promised that we should be the first 
 individuals who succeeded in traveling without the 
 purchase of tickets back to Thistle Junction or any 
 portion of this mileage. In short, the quarrel culmin- 
 ated in our hiking the whole distance of one hundred 
 and thirty-two miles, for though we made any number 
 of tries to hook en route a ride by rail we miserably 
 failed in all our schemes to best the wrathy crew of the 
 Rio Grande. 
 
 Originally the country we traversed to Thistle had 
 been a desert of the very worst rating. But thanks 
 to the Mormons, always industrious and scientific 
 agriculturists, the howling desolation became transform 
 ed into a worthy counterpart of the proverbial Garden 
 of Eden. 
 
 Both Jack London and I had panhandled 
 through countrysides as thickly settled and no 
 less prosperous by intensified farming than was the 
 Marysvale section — and all other districts settled by 
 the Mormons, for that matter. But nowhere had either 
 of us met with a more cordial reception than the one 
 we received everywhere in Mormonland. 
 
 In all the world there were no people more char- 
 itablly inclined than were the Jews an^i the Mormons 
 with whom we were thrown in contact during our 
 world-wide travels. That is, reclconing the practice 
 of practical charity in conformity with the numerical 
 strength of the worshippers affiliated with each of 
 
From Cocst to Coast with Jack London. \2X 
 
 the various religious denominations abroad on the 
 American continent. 
 
 The Mormons were the more noteworthy in that 
 their charity towards their fellow-beings was sustained 
 by a most sublime belief. Their religion taught that 
 some day the archangel of God, his identity disguised 
 in garments typifying abject poverty, would come to 
 knock for admission at the entrance of the home of 
 every devotee of Mormonism. On account of the 
 grandly divine teaching, a hobo needed but to allow 
 his needs to become known in the land of the Mormons 
 to receive a prompt response to his appeal. 
 
 Faring like kings we returned through the heart 
 of Utah to Thistle. There we ran across a seasoned 
 hobo campaigner. We visited with him and recounted 
 in the course of a conversation which ensued, the gifts 
 of most wonderful "eatings" which had rewarded our 
 simplest efforts among the Saints of the Latter Day. 
 He it was who informed us that among the hoboes all 
 the country settled by the Mormons was termed the 
 "Land of Manna" and that the railroads passing through 
 there were nicknamed "Milk & Honey Routes." 
 
 (There were other railroads or parts of them which 
 had gained most appropriate nicknames at the 
 hand of the hoboes. That portion of the Norfolk & 
 Western which in south-eastern Ohio runs from Ports- 
 mouth to Circleville was dubbed the "Apple Butter 
 Route." Not so many years ago, I chanced to stray 
 over this trackage which was rated as one of the most 
 hobo-hostile bits of railroads. I was continually chased 
 off the cars by the shacks and routed from the 
 right of way by section hands and railroad police. For 
 this simple reason I was given every opportunity to 
 verify the weakness of the housekeepers thereabouts 
 
122 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 to regale tramps calling at their homes with thin 
 slices of bread thickly spread with juicy apple butter. 
 So persistently was I fed with the sticky apple mar- 
 madade that even now, when I am so happily married, 
 no apple butter is allowed a place on our dinner table. 
 
 The Trenton-Harrisburg short cut of the Penn- 
 sylvania System for sufficient reason is nicknamed 
 the ''Doughnut Lane." The Boston & Albany is the 
 "Sacred Tract Road." 'Jhe thrifty New Englanders 
 living on this railroad, aware of the weakness of the 
 hoboes for John Barleycorn, had acquired the most 
 commendable habit of presenting religious and tem- 
 perance tracts to tramps pestering for victuals. The 
 "Bitter Biscuit Line" is the nickname of the Piedmont 
 divisions of the Southern Railway. This because the 
 handouts passed out to beggars consisted in the main 
 of ancient dough biscuits which had become tart by 
 reason of the poisonous alum powder used in their 
 baking. The "Spud Drag" is the Bangor & Aroostook, 
 one of the finest bits of railways, by way of mention. 
 Along this line immense quantities of the tubers were 
 marketed annually. Naturally, potatoes were the prin- 
 cipal contents of every handout donated by the Maine 
 farmers. The Oregon & California of the famous 
 Harriman System is the "Snaky Route" of the hoboes 
 because from Sacramento to Portland, a grandly scenic 
 mountain trip of eight hundred miles, there is scarcely 
 a half mile of straight track.) 
 
 At Salt Lake City we battered the residence of 
 Joseph Smith. We worked the trick in company, that 
 is, we two went the act together. It so chanced that 
 the prophet of the Mormons was at home. He visited 
 with us in the yard where we split wood to earn our 
 dinners. Previous to our meeting with this man, we 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 123 
 
 had ofttimes laughed at the caricatures of him and 
 of the religious teachings of the sect of which he was 
 the leader. He neither looked a bit like the scanditlous 
 drawings nor remotely capable of committing even a 
 fraction of the misdeeds laid at his door by apostates 
 from Mormonism and the envious of humanity — they 
 with an intellect so gnarled that it allows them to 
 hold nothing inviolable, least of all the good name and 
 the religious belief of their fellow-men. 
 
 Quite to the contrary, Joseph Smith was a most 
 unassuming sort of a gentleman. For more than an 
 hour he was not above personally helping us along 
 with our task. Ere we went from his home, the prophet 
 of the Mormons bade us a hearty farewell and we 
 were presented with a dollar. At that, he had lots 
 more cares than ordinarily were the burden of the 
 everyday mortal. Not only had he to look after the 
 welfare of a nation of people but also four wives and 
 a most respectably sized family of children. We met 
 some of the younger Smiths and we had to admit that 
 we never seen a more likely set of healthy and 
 vivacious youngsters. 
 
 Returning to the railroad center of Ogden, we 
 skirted the Great Salt Lake and then crossed the 
 American Sahara in which Winnemucca was set like 
 an enchanted oasis. We were ditched many times 
 en route and suffered many of the other tribulations 
 to which hobodom exclusively is heir before we reached 
 the city of Reno whence it was but a step to California, 
 the land of plenty. 
 
 At Reno every hobo, ranging from the aristocratic 
 "comet'' down to the lowliest of low "grease balls," 
 registered his moniker. Eastbound tramps made here 
 their final preparations for the traverse of the immense 
 
124 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 desolation which practically stretched from here to 
 Julesburg, Colorado. Westbound bummers lingered to 
 "feed up" after finishing the starvation trip of twelve 
 hundred dreary miles. 
 
 At Reno were abroad other transients who left 
 their trade-marks. But unlike the tramp fry who 
 registered on station structures, cattle pens, water 
 tanks and divers available spots, the other intruders 
 placed their signatures in the registers of hotels and 
 boarding houses where expense was a secondary con- 
 sideration. Unlike the treatment meted out to the 
 wandering tribe of trampdom, whom the Reno police 
 showed no mercy, the other visitors-^jwere sycophantly 
 kow-towed to by the minions of the law. And all this 
 difference because the hoboes were sponging a living 
 at the expense of the Renoites who, in their turn, 
 were trimming to a fare-ye-well the other folks, they 
 who were in town to throw aside the matrimonial 
 yoke. 
 
 A telling majority of the seekers for divorce were 
 women. Back home the grounds they had to advance 
 for an application of separation from their life's mate 
 either was too scandalous for an airing in a public court 
 or would not stand the test of the local laws. A few 
 months of legal residence was all the state of Nevada 
 required to grease the slide into single-blessedness and, 
 at the same time, the pocket-books of the lawyers and 
 others financially interested in the flourishing of the 
 divorce enterprise. 
 
 A native son of Reno told us some interesting 
 items. He had it that some of the regular patrons 
 of the Nevadan courts, had engaged their rooms by 
 the year. Thus they avoided the annoyance of hunting 
 new quarters every time they arrived to secure a 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 125 
 
 "Reno" separation from their latest husband (?) whom 
 they had divorced of his cash. 
 
 There was one outstanding feature which most 
 impressed Jack London and I while we were sight- 
 seeing in town. This was the unusual number of lap 
 dogs and other nasty creatures taken out for an airing 
 by members o£ the Reno divorce colony or their maids. 
 Precious few of the women, all of whom were attired 
 in the most expensive creations of Parisian fashion, 
 were encumbered with babies. Ladies who were 
 mothers were kept too busy caring for their little tots 
 and making life worth living for their husbands, to 
 gayly galivant to Reno there to patronize the home- 
 breaking industry. 
 
 In fine, one must have studied at close range the 
 divorce mill of Nevada in the days when this shame 
 was grinding the fastest to truly understand the depths 
 of depravity to which humanity will descend. 
 
126 From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 
 
 OUR SIXTEENTH ADVENTURE 
 
 "The Parting of the Ways." 
 
 FROM Reno we rambled to Truckee, the first stop 
 within the boundary of the state of California the 
 stately portals of which were the eternal snow cov- 
 ered peaks of the Sierra Nevada. It was so miserably 
 cold at that season of the year that we decided the risk 
 to be too great to hobo trains hanging on to the out- 
 side of the cars. There was another ample reason for 
 our caution. 
 
 At the apex of the mountain pass and some twelve 
 hundred feet above Truckee there was a long tunnel. 
 With two and three and even more of the heaviest 
 kind of mountain climbing engines necessary to drag 
 an average train through this long bore, it was a 
 miracle that not more hoboes were annually either 
 suffocated by the gases or, losing consciousness, let 
 go of their hold to be cast to a swift death in the 
 darkness. 
 
 For the twofold reason set forth, we endeavored 
 to find an empty box car or one left unsealed so we 
 could stay within doors and thus in safety make the 
 dangerous passage of the High Sierras. But the 
 shacks of the Southern Pacific stopped our exit from 
 Truckee. So fierce they were and so thoroughly "hobo 
 hostile" that ere any westbound train quit the yard, 
 all the cars were carefully searched for hidden trespass- 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 127 
 
 ers. Few of the hoboes ever escaped this search. 
 Those who managed this trick or swung aboard the 
 cars while the train was leaving town, were fired from 
 off their hiding places while the train slowly crawled 
 up the steep railroad grade which for fourteen miles 
 and in full view of the inhabitants of Truckee snaked 
 upward on the mountain side. 
 
 A solid week we had wasted while trying by every 
 means to negotiate an indoor passage of the tunnels, 
 the snow sheds and the arctic granite fastnesses which 
 comprised the next forty miles beyond Truckee. Soon 
 we were to discover we could not continue to "hold 
 down" the small community where, at that, at all times 
 hoboes galore were on hand who were brought to and 
 then dumped and indefinitely detained in town by the 
 hostile railroaders. 
 
 Finally, in desperation, with starvation facing us, 
 we decided on tackling the California Mail, a fast 
 train which at midnight departed from Truckee depot. 
 We hoped to reduce our danger to a minimum by the 
 swift passage we were assured aboard the passenger 
 train. When the Mail pulled up in front of the station, 
 we found that our plans were favored by the circum- 
 stance that the train that night was hauling a "private 
 car." We were aware of the regulation which forbade 
 trainmen to enter a car of this class which generally 
 was the expensive privilege of the very wealthy. 
 
 Knowing ourselves secure against molestation by 
 the crew while the train was in transit, we boldly 
 climbed aboard the observation platform which formed 
 the rear end of the departing train. The occupants 
 of the special coach had retired for the night. This 
 we readily ascertained when the shades, which were 
 drawn over the large plate glass windows that led 
 
128 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 to the platform, Hopped back and forth whenever the 
 Mail swung around a mountain curve. Peeping indoors 
 through the windo^vs, v/e looked into a lamplit sitting 
 room which was shut off from the rest of the interior 
 by a swinging- door. 
 
 Everything went famously well until the train dove 
 into the portal of the long tunnel at the apex of the 
 pass. There the mountain bore, which enveloped the 
 cars like a i'v^ht fitting glove, gave the noxious gases 
 emitted by the engines every chance to get in their 
 work. We began to cough and to choke and then to 
 reel. To steady myself, I groped in the darkness 
 for a handhold to keep myself from dropping over 
 the railing of the platform. Luckily, I caught hold 
 of the knob of the door leadincf from the observation 
 platform into the private car. Some one had neglected 
 to properly fasten the door for the night for when, 
 by chance, I tried the knob the door yielded to 
 pressure. 
 
 Whispering to Jack London for him to exercise 
 caution, we stealthily slipped into the sitting room 
 of the car and shut the door behind us. Then we 
 sank into chairs which stood near at hand. It was 
 some time ere we regained our composure so greatly 
 had we suffered from the effect of the deadly gases 
 and the fearful ordeal we had passed through. Ere 
 we were aware of the matter, we did the natural thing 
 when we fell asleep on the softly upholstered chairs. 
 
 "Who done tole yuh to make yuh-selves at home in 
 dis yere priv'te cah, white folks?" bellowed the colored 
 porter of the car when in the morning he discovered 
 our unbidden presence. 
 
 Matters were satisfactorily explained to the dusky 
 servant. But he would not hear of our riding further. 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 129 
 
 The porter was most amazed to find two "extra" passenger*. 
 
130 From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 
 
 not even out on the observation platform until "his 
 folks" had quit their berths. He insisted that we 
 leave the train at the first stop. This was the city of 
 Auburn. Here and five miles farther on at Newcastle, 
 to where we walked, we feasted on figs and other 
 tropical fruits which we gathered from the trees and 
 plants. This proved a rare treat following the hard 
 fare which was ours since we quit the Land of Manna. 
 
 We hoboed to Sacramento, the capital of California. 
 Having taken in the sights to be seen in this ancient 
 city, we returned to the freight yard to railroad the 
 last ninety miles yet remaining of our transcontinental 
 roughing trip. While we waited for a train to depart 
 at a bridge which at the west end of the yard spanned 
 the Sacramento River, we espied some row boats which 
 their careless owners had tied to the trunks of trees 
 which grew on the bank of the navigable stream. 
 
 In his day Jack London had been a sailor. On 
 him the vista of the boats acted like a charm. He 
 could not resist the call of the water for, there and 
 then, .he proposed that we appropriate one of the 
 row boats and then travel by river and bay to Oakland, 
 his home city. I tried my level-best to dissuade him 
 from this notion which meant reaching our destination 
 by a route so circuitous that it was more than do\ible 
 the mileage of the trip by rail. But he would brook 
 no refusal. And for the sake of preserving our partner- 
 ship, I consented to share the adventure. 
 
 Loaded down with provisions we had collected in 
 the meanwhile, at midnight we returned to the river 
 bank. There we selected and then released the most 
 likely one of the row boats. Lacking oars wherewith 
 to paddle the boat down the swiftly flowing stream, 
 wc made use of staves which we had ripped from a dis- 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 131 
 
 carded wine barrel. At dawn we steered into a slough 
 where we capsized the craft. We camped in a jungle 
 but a short distance from where we had left the keel 
 of the boat awash with the bosom of the river. 
 
 After dusk we righted the boat, bailed it and re- 
 embarked on a continuance of our journey. While 
 we were hugely interested in our exploit and kept on 
 a sharp lookout for steamboats which plied the Sac- 
 ramento, mosquitoes took a mighty mean advantage of 
 us. With our blood we furnished them meals for 
 which they settled in more than full by thoroughly 
 inoculating our circulatory systems with the virus of 
 dread malaria. The third day out we had become so 
 delirious with the ague that we had to abandon the 
 hobo water trip. After setting the boat adrift, we 
 struck out across the country. From the bend of the 
 Sacramento it was forty miles before we reached the 
 nearest railroad station where, more dead than alive, 
 we crawled aboard a freight train and came on to 
 Oakland. 
 
 At the residence of the Londons I was tendered a 
 most whole-souled reception. In the belief that our 
 safifron-hued complexions and other visible ravages 
 of the malarial fever were telltales of semi-starvation, 
 motherly Mrs. London prepared a sumptuous banquet. 
 But we were unable to do justice to the many good 
 things she had dished up and a doctor was consulted. 
 He promptly ordered us put to bed. There being no 
 suitable provision at the house to care for more than 
 one sick person, I took temporary leave of Jack Lon- 
 don and his folks. 
 
 Then I went to hunt an asylum for myself. But 
 a penniless stranger and more especially a fellow who, 
 so plainly as I did, displayed the earmarks of vagrancy 
 
132 From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 
 
 was not accorded admittance at hospitals and other 
 institutions where I piteously pleaded to be nursed 
 back to health and strength — to follow the Road. 
 Failing in my errand at Oakland, I turned to San 
 Francisco to find free shelter and medical treatment 
 during my siege of sickness. To reach the latter city 
 I had to cross the bay of like name. I slipped aboard 
 a ferryboat at the moment it left Oakland Pier. But 
 a watchman in the employ of the boat had espied my 
 act As I could not produce a ticket or settle for my 
 transportation, on landing at San Francisco he placed 
 me in charge of a John Law. The officer had me 
 taken by patrol to police headquarters. Thence I was 
 dragged before a magistrate who neither permitted 
 my humble plea of sickness nor other excuses to pre- 
 vail but off-handedly settled my latest transgression 
 of the law. 
 
 Tramps did not consider a transcontinental hobo 
 jaunt as formally accomplished unless the roamer who 
 desired the right of this distinction had personally 
 gazed upon the roaring surf of the Pacific Ocean. It 
 was several months from my arrival in the city to the 
 day when I fulfilled this obligation. 
 
 Then I resolved to find Jack London if such a 
 meeting could be arranged, wherever his whereabouts. 
 Under a ruling of the code of the hoboes, no tramp- 
 partnership was considered as rightly dissolved unkss 
 l^ mutual understanding or the death of one of the 
 priucapols of the agreement. 
 
 Over in Oakland, I was advised by Mrs. London, 
 thsLt after battling three months ere he conquered the 
 malaria, her son had accepted employment with an 
 up-state laundry. In response to my urgent inquiries, 
 the brave mother gave me to understand that her re- 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 133 
 
 formed wayward was quite content to remain with his 
 task the address of which she curtly refused to divulge. 
 
 Even while good Mrs. London thus sounded the 
 death knell of our contemplated hobo cruise around 
 the world, I realized that the seemingly impossible was 
 achieved. As ever, so in this instance, it had required 
 a harsh remedy to counteract the inroads of a malig- 
 nant malady. In Jack London's case it took an over- 
 dose of malaria to down the hobo fever which so 
 virulently scourged him. 
 
 When I had bidden farewell to Mrs. London, the 
 lady expressed a fervent wish that I, too, would soon 
 mend my ways. While I walked along the street this 
 well-meant advice provided food for poignant thought. 
 Long before this day I had indulged in calculations 
 dealing with items intimately pertaining to the Road. 
 The figuring I had done was of the statistical sort, 
 a matter-of-fact one that stopped errors and slipping 
 in of deceptions. The especial subject of my study 
 was the recent hobo trip. The figures which resulted 
 heavily brought home the truth that as an investment 
 of human lifetime, the Road was the most thankless 
 of propositions. Soley counting the many weeks we 
 had wasted while we roughed it overland, we could 
 have done a thousandfold better had we accepted 
 honorable employment in New York City. There we 
 could readily put aside weekly a portion of our earn- 
 ings and thus in short order have saved the where- 
 withal for the purchase of firstclass passage to 
 California or a-ny other points on the globe, for that 
 matter. In four days of traveling like gentlemen 
 aboard of the varnished cars, we would have avoided 
 all the incredible risks every ride thief continually 
 courted. 
 
134 
 
 From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 While yet I was debating with myself whether 
 to follow the dictates of commonsense or the yearning 
 which directed me back to the crooked path, in the 
 nearby terminal of the Southern Pacific a locomotive 
 driver whistled the signal which announced the depar- 
 ture of a freight train. Alv/ays in the past this tooted 
 cajl was to me the clarion of the Road. As on other 
 days so on this day the nerve-racking blasts acted as 
 an invitation to leave the locality for other fields. 
 Another moment of indecision — then away through 
 the streets of Oakland I raced to board the outgoing 
 train. I arrived in time to swing myself beneath a 
 freight car. There lying stretched full length across 
 the gunnels I left Oakland. 
 
 At Roseville Junction where the "Snaky Route" 
 of the hoboes forked from the main line of the Southern 
 Pacific, I turned northward. The grand Puget Sound 
 country called me. There I would arrive in due 
 time — unless a last and fatal slip sent me hoboing 
 onward in the Great Beyond through all eternity. 
 
 
From Coast to Coast with Jack London. 
 
 135 
 
 Letter written aboard the "Snark 
 
136 
 
 From Coast to Coast with Jack London, 
 
 AUTHOR'S NOTE 
 
 THE Wanderlust which was the lifelong bane of 
 Jack London would not allow him to remain at 
 rest. Twelve years later he made another, also 
 futile attempt to circle the globe without actually invest- 
 ing in regular tickets. , He, his good wife and our jovial 
 friend, Mr. Martin Johnson of Independence, Kansas, 
 embarked on the "Snark," a forty-five foot sailing boat. 
 They were unable to turn the coveted trick. After 
 having strayed halfway around the world to Sidney, 
 N.S.W.; Australia, two years later, ill health contracted 
 in the South Seas by the participants compelled an 
 abandonment of an undertaking which stands without 
 compeer in the annals of red-blooded adventure. 
 
A List of the Books on Tramp Life 
 
 WRITTEN ,^^ ^^"r^il.^. '^^^ TRAMP 
 BY ' At XrJN^SX^ AUTHOR 
 
 THE FIRST BOOK 
 UFE AND ADVENTURES OF A-No. 1 
 
 THE SECOND BOOK 
 HOBO-CAM P-FIRE-TALES 
 
 THE THIRD BOOK 
 THE CURSE OF TRAMP LIFE 
 
 THE FOURTH BOOK 
 THE TRAIL OF THE TRAMP 
 
 THE FIFTH BOOK 
 THE ADVENTURES OF A FEMALE TRAMP 
 
 THE SIXTH BOOK 
 THE WAYS OF THE HOBO 
 
 THE SEVENTH BOOK 
 THE SNARE OF THE ROAD 
 
 THE EIGHTH BOOK 
 FROM COAST TO COAST WITH JACK LONDON 
 
 THE NINTH BOOK 
 THE MOTHER OF THE HOBOES 
 
 THE TENTH BOOK 
 THE WIFE I WON 
 
 THE ELEVENTH BOOK 
 TRAVELING WITH TRAMPS 
 
 THE TWELFTH BOOK 
 HERE AND THERE WITH ANo. 1 
 
 The Author has carefully avoided the least mention of uny- 
 thing that would be unfit reading for ladies or children. 
 
 A complete set of these moral and entertaining books 
 should be in every home. 
 
1 
 
 NO. 8 
 
 9^ 
 
 
 I