Digitized by tine Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/fromcoasttocoastOOIivirich Mur^e^ n \J57D'T?KI ''tm ^i^^^mm> r>9^ 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