I stayed with him long enough to earn a second-hand suit
of clothes he owned, which was too small for him, but almost fitted me
... civilian clothes ... my soldier clothes were worn to tatters.
* * * * *
I picked up another pal. A chunky, beefy nondescript. I was meditating a
jump across "the desert." The older hoboes had warned me against it,
saying it was a cruel trip ... the train crews knew no compunction
against ditching a fellow anywhere out in the desert, where there would
be nothing but a tank of brackish water....
My new chum, on the other hand, swore, that, to one who knew the ropes,
it was not so hard to make the jump on the Southern Pacific ... through
Arizona and New Mexico, to El Paso. He said he would show me how to
wiggle into the refrigerator box of an orange car ... on either end of
the orange car is a refrigerator box, if I remember correctly ... access
to which is gained through the criss-cross bars that hold up a sort of
trap-door at the top. It was in the cold season, so there was now no ice
inside. These trap-doors are always officially sealed, when the car is
loaded. To break a seal is a penitentiary offense.
I stood off and inspected the place I was supposed to go in at. The
triangular opening seemed too small for a baby to slide through. I
looked my chunky pal up and down and laughed.
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