The interior of the car sounded like a Scotch bagpipe a-drone ... what
with snoring, breaking of wind in various ways, groaning, and muttering
thickly in dreams ... the air was sickeningly thick and fetid. But to
open a side door meant to let in the cold.
Softly my buddy and I drew off our shoes, putting them under our heads
to serve as pillows, and also to keep them from being stolen. (Often a
tramp comes along with a deft enough touch to untie a man's shoes from
his feet without waking him. I've heard of its being done.) We wrapped
our feet in newspapers, then. Our coats we removed, to wrap them about
us ... one keeps warmer that way than by just wearing the coat....
* * * * *
The door on each side crashed back!
"Here's another nest full of 'em!"
"Come on out, boys!"
"What's the matter?" I queried.
"'stoo cold out here. We have a nice, warm calaboose waitin' fer ye!"
Grunting and grumbling, we dropped to the cinders, one after the other.
A posse of deputies and citizens, had, for some dark reason, rounded us
up.
One or two made a break for it, and escaped, followed by a random shot.
After that, no one else cared to be chased after by a bullet.
They conducted us to what they had termed "the calaboose," a big,
ramshackle, one-roomed barn-like structure. Piled in so thick that we
almost had to stand up, there were so many of us--we were held there
till next morning.
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