Then
he realized that the language of the man was in his natural manner
of speaking, and he said:
"Who are you and where are you from?"
"Give you one guess," laughed the stranger. "No! Can't tell a
'bo'? Well, just tramp. Wot's dew name? I lost me card case. Me
nom de plumb is Kid, Californy Kid. And me address is--well wot's
de name o' dis munificent metropolis?"
"Clarkeville, New Mexico," answered Alan smiling.
"Well, den me address is dat. Wot's de nex' inquiry?"
The man was young. His clothing was worn and greasy, his shoes were
patched, and those parts of his face and hands that could be seen
between smears of coal dust were red from exposure and the sun.
"How do you happen to be here?" continued Alan.
"Well, cul--beg pardon, son--de fact is I lost me purse and de
brakeman on de fast freight wouldn't take me check. I was dumped.
And I can't get away exceptin' I walk."
"Then you wouldn't care to work?"
"Will dis beautiful city give me coin and chuck widout work?"
"I'm afraid not," laughed Alan.
"Den' it's work for yours truly," answered the tramp with a sort of
cheery humor.
Pages:
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76