The herald., 1898-04-16

looked out sideways the fields ana
fences and houses slid by like regular
panorama. Then we got to going fast-
er and the dust began to blow up IN
my face, and couldn't see thing; l
shut my eyes tight. but it drove into
my nose till I couldn't breath, ana
when opened my mouth thought Id
be choked anyhow. 1t wasn't all just
dust. either. When we got to roaring
along at full speed. and the wheels
were humming close by my ears, ana
the iron things were rattling all rouno
me, the gravel began to fly up, too, ana
it pounded me like big hailstones. You
haven't the least idea, Sammy, now
fast freight train really goes. Ana 1t
doesn't run steady; 1t swings ahead,
and slacks. and starts up again with
yank that almost sends you on pack-
wards. Then you strike curve. and
your board slides round under you TILL
you just grit your teeth and say your
prayers. When 1 tried to brace by
hunching up the way Rusty told me- II
seemed as il the whole car was Joun-
cling up and down on my back.
thought was a dead boy twenty times
that day, Sammy.
II tell you, made up my mind pref
ty quick that I'd had enough, and l
was going to get off at the very first
stop. But they didn't stop for three
or four stations; and when they did,
there were so many men running ABOUT,
and the engine kept starting up and
backing and switching round so much
that 1 didn't dare move. And the first
I knew the train had started up again,
and there l was, slipping round on
hot ch,to fh,,ndorinp along
in regular hurricane Of dust and sand
and stones. with a rattling and bang
ing and grinding and clanking fit to
drive you crazy, in for another ten
miles of it at the very least. And,
Sammy, I rode that way clear to AL
bany! Each time, when We were 60
ing thought I'd get off at the next
station sure, and when we stopped l
didn't dare.
II must have been a sight when I did
crawl out, but it was night by that
time. I could hardly see or hear or
taste or smell, I was so full of dirt.
and I ached all over. 1t seemed as If
the grit had worked into my joints till
1 could hardly move, and filled up my
head till it felt as big as a pumpkin
and about as much good. I don't see
what any tramp is thinking of when
he steals rides under the cars. He'd
better feed a thrashing machine, and
be done with it.
How did I get the rest Of the way
to New York? 1t would take too long
to tell all that tonight. I promised I'd
come home early Sammy,-and I'm not
playing any low-down tramp tricks
now, you better believe. But part Of
the way I got a ride on a canal boat.
and part of the way I walked. 1 got
things to eat easy enough, and once
or twice got bed; but I was just a
miserable little beggar. and felt like
a yellow dog all the time. And the
real yellow dogs-they chased me, Sam
my.
When I got to the city it wasn't so
easy. I sneaked up and down the
streets ever so long, and pretty near
starved to death, before I could find
out where those Cuban folks were. And
when I did find them, they wouldn't
even listen to me.
"'What you want here, boy?' little
black-looking man said to me. When
I told him he got mad right away.
More as one hundred fool boys do come
here each day. he growled. What we
want of fool boys? You get out, quick
Think of that, after all I'd been
through to help Cuba! He was going
to call a policeman, too, so I had to
run for it.
"Then I went down to the dock, and
hid on ship that was going to Key
West, but they caught me just as she
was starting; and after they'd half
killed me they turned me over to a po-
liceman. and he dragged me off to the
station house. I was sore and dirty
and hungry and ashamed, and 1 guess
1 cried pretty much all the way. They
were going to commit me to some kind
of a society. when all at once a tall
man stepped up and showed them a
photograph. That's the boy he said
I've been after him for more than a
week. and his people are almost crazy
about him. I'll see that he gets home
all right
You see, he was a detective that
father had set to watch for me. There
isn't any more that you don't know
about already. And now I'm going
home, as I promised I would. Homes
an awfully good place to be. Sammy"
Copyright 1898. by The International
Literary and News Service.