...
We "boiled up" regularly ... and hung our shirts and other articles of
apparel on the near-by willows to dry....
After about ten days of scientific exploitation of them, the "natives"
of the town on the verge of which we were encamping, began to evidence
signs of restlessness.
So we moved on to another town by means of a local freight.
Settled there in "the jungles," we hilariously voted to crown the cook
our king. We held the ceremony, presenting him with a crown made out of
an old tin pan, which one of the more expert among us hammered into a
circlet and scoured bright with sand....
* * * * *
But soon I grew tired of the gang and started on alone.
"You'd better beat it on out of the South as quick as you can," an old
tramp had warned me, "they're hell on a bum down here, and harder yet on
a Yankee ... no, they haven't forgot _that_ yet--not by a damn sight!"
I was soon to wish that I had listened to the old tramp's wisdom.
* * * * *
In the chill grey dip of an early spring dawn I dropped off a freight in
the yards of the town of Granton.
I drew my threadbare coat closer as I made my way up the track, on the
look-out for some place to go into and warm myself. Usually, in chilly
weather, each railroad station throughout the country has a stove a-glow
in the waiting room .
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