Omaha daily bee., 1888-10-28

trOublesOme?h he asked OF a switch
man.
you bet they are, and they're a
tough lot. They all carry razors or
slung-shots. or else arm themselves
with coupling pins, and no switchman
has any time 'fooling' around a car that
has in it three or four OF 'em. The
yard watchmen are armed, and the
buns are afraid of their guns. When
they are driven out of; one a they
sneak along and get into another"
.Do you think" queried the reporter,
that l could get a chance to look into
one of the cars and have a talk with
some of them?"
At this the burly switchman re-
lieved himself of a large railroad laugh
and critically took in the meagre frame
OF the interlocutor.
Look a'here, young fellow" he said,
''you don't look very stout, and if those
tramps took you for a detective, or any
thing of that sort, there would be an
other mysterious disappearance for your
pardners to write up"
Nothing daunted. however. the re-
porter you Ills TdllIOdu ltlCnu ~ JANE
him to the switch shanty, where he left
his Waterbury watch and diamond ring.
Downing an old pair of overalls, and u
battered and tattered hat and coat, he
started down the track in the direction
pointed out as being most likely to con-
tain the game he was after. Long lines
OF cars stretched out into the darkness.
The moon had just risen, and glistened
on the rails, making the shadow be-
tween the lines of cars more intensely
black. AS the reporter entered the
alley between the cars, his courage
almost forsook him. He cautiously
moved along, now and then stumbling
over a stone or link coupling pin, and
occasionally stopping to listen, peering
into empty cars by the aid of a lighted
match. All the cars in the alley had
been examined and nothing had been
found. BY this time clouds had OBJ
scured the moon and a drizzling rain
set in, which was anything but en-
couraging; and the reporter heartily
wished himself back in the warm
switch shanty.
' or his way back, he brought up short at
the sound of subdued talking and laugh
ter coming from one of the cars. With
some trepidation he tapped on the door
, and the sounds abruptly ceased. The
door was slowly slide back and made
visible by the glare OF a switch lantern,
a blOated and dirty face, covered with
a two weeks growth of red beard, was
thrust through the opening.
What in-do you want?"
"Say pard," returned the reporter,
| ''let me come in out OF the wet, won't
ye?"
son, it's only you, is it? All right;
ONE up"
A dirty, big hand was extended, and
the scribe landed on his abdomen on
| the car floor. BY the light of q candle
| end. which was stuck on a ledge by the
car door IN some Of its own melted
| grease, four men sat around al empty
| soap box playing seven up with agreasy
deck of cards. In a corner, covered
with a ragged coat, lay a boy about fiji
teen years of age,r with bare feet,
%shivering with the cold. A vol
ley of the vilast Oaths issued
from a burly %rufian who! had lost the
game, and who was reviling his part
ner, a ragged, consumptiVe-lOoking man
opposite him. This theDreporter took
in at a glance as his intrOducer ''sized
him up"
''Gettin' nasty out. amt it?" queried
one of the men at the box, after they
had all looked the scribe over.
"Betcher life it is" was the reply.
The game of cards went on, and the re-
porter sat on the car floor and looked
~curiously on.
Where are you: bound for, pard?.'
the reporter was asked by the gentle
man with the red beard. .
''Tryin' to get to Frisco for the win
ter" he replied.
''Say, young fellow, can you buy de
beer?" asked the big %rufian, turning to
the reporter.
Yes. I've got a dime il some one will
go for it," timidly remarked the scribe.
The gentleman with the red beard
promptly offered his services, but the
big ruffian. laughed, and remarked
grimly that he guessed not" Here