The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1910-05-20

grim, dark and closed tight Va1nly we tried every door. All were locked. There was no sign of the manager from whom we had expected such an eager 1 welcome. There was not even a watch man on the premises.
 | Of course we were bitterly disap- pointed. But were not frightened, and I know we did not cry. We hadn't money enough left to pay our way back 1 pay for our room, supper and break | less than two hours, we thought in our 1 innocence that we easily could walk l back next day. I believe the distance is forty or fifty miles
 1 Children either are afraid of every thing or of nothing. We were of the latter kind. So the next morning we paid our hotel bill and with the little money we had left bought some fruit and sandwiches to take along for lunch con, and started to walk back to San Francisco. Not knowing anything about l the way, and not caring to ask, because we did not want to appear what we were 1.-two runaway girls-we chose the road bed of the railway as the most direct route and the surest. We were not ] aware that 1t also was the favorite route for hoodlums, who would steal ride on local freight until discovered and put off, and then tramp the roadbed until the chance to steal another ride offered. But the same kind fate that thus far had watched over us, kept us from finding out what hoodlum at his worst might be.
 We had not walked very far out of San Jose when we saw man coming along the track toward us. He was a |rough-1ooking individual, in fact hood lun, but not quite as ragged as the average tramp, probably because little younger, for I suppose that even in trampdom youth still takes some pride in appearances. Two things about him treasured us in spite of his rough ex- terior. When he spoke to us, there was a note i'll his voice that bespoke at least the remnant of gentility-a touch of deference to our sex, 1 now think 1t was; and he had a dog, an Irish terrier, that greeted us with friendly wag. There never Is, think, any need of being afraid of man with friendly
 dog, for a dog reflects the character of the master. The man asked us where we were going, and listened with an amused smile when we told him we were walking to San Francisco and ex- pected to reach 1t in the afternoon. He said walking on the track was dangerous and he would show us a road. So he took us to one of the pretty red clay country roads running along the foot of the sloping hills that form, many of them clad with vineyards, the Santa Clara valley. He fhad been walking toward San Jose, but now he turned and walked along with us. I realize now that he saw we were runawayS and needed protection, even If we didn t know It. For rough characters passed Us even on tine road |. 1 Really he was delightful. He chatted with us in an easy manner and told us stories Sometimes, too, we would run ahead and frolic with the dog "Babe" his master called him-but after a while we began to feel the fatigue of walking and were content to have Babe" trot along beside us About that time we came to one Of the little
 streams that crossed the road, and the man suggested that we might want to rest We said we would like to eat, too and we sat down and laid out our had been wrapped in. Babe pricked
 I'D his ears and scrutinized us and
 wagged his tail slowly and respectfully, As If not wanting to appear too eager.
 I am happy to say that the idea of just
 gobbling up what we had bought with
 out offering any of 1t to the man and the
 dog never occurred to us. We divided
 the commissary supplies into four parts
 and the man looked on approvingly. l
 suppose he was glad that, although we
 were a couple of little fools, we were
 on the level. -.
 "IIow would some nice fresh milk go with this outht?" he asked.
 We looked ruefu1ly at each other We had not bought any milk, we had no more money, and we told him SO T That's all right" he said; Babe
 will get some for us.'
 "sBabe'w we exclaimed with one voice.