Tales of the Road

ess; he is ever ready to do for others a deed of friendship or charity. Road life trains the heart to gentleness. It carries with it so many opportunities to help the

e liberality of the traveling man does not consist wholly of courting the favor of his merchant friends-he is free with

mine once to

e seat, sat a poor woman with three young children. As the brakeman called 'Lincoln, the next station! Ten minutes for lunch!' I noticed the woman feeling in her pockets

-I want to get a cup of coffee; it's got my ticke

ou look for it

le, but could not find the pocket book. The train wa

took it at Ottumwa and gave it back to me. And I had enough money to buy me a ticket up to Central City where my sister is. They won't put me off, will they? I know I had the ticket. If I only get t

uldn't finish

came over. 'Don't you worry a bit, Madam,' said he. 'You'll get through all right. I'll see the

ticket when she got on my division. I punched it and hande

xt conductor that she had a ticket and get him to take care of her and pass her on to the next division?' "'Guess she'll have to get off at Lincoln,' answered the con

to cry but my friend B

ough all right. Just st

here, I say-and go with me to the superintendent in the depot. If you don't you won't be wearing those brass buttons much longer. It'

ward a mouse seems as big as an elephant and 'brass button

turned to the woman and said: 'You shall go throu

a penny-three dollars and sixty-five cents; And I'll bet she knew where eve

t down the aisle, saying to the boys, 'Poor woman, husband just died, left three children, going to hunt work in Colorado, lost her p

id Ferguson to the old man who h

hink the railroad company ought to look

my grip stay near you.' "When the train stopped at Lincoln, Billie and Ferguson took the conductor to the superintendent's office. They sent me to the lunch counter. I got back first with a cup

and give me your name so that I can send that back

'Oh, never mind our names, madam. Buy somethi

tramp comes in often to share the drummer's generosity. A friend

en a sprig of grass. This smoke, also laden with arsenic, sometimes hovers over Butte like a London fog. More wealth is every year dug out of the earth in Butte, and more money is squandered there by more different kinds of people, than in any place of

to catch sight of the train. Through the bluish haze, the lamp in the depot cast a light upon a man standing near the track. I went over to him, supposing he was a fellow traveling man. But he was only a tramp who h

ing, old ma

ong's I have in Fourt' of Chuly togs an' you'll have to have a long pipe dream to

ter. I was hungry myself and told t

. "I saw some strawberries behind the counter and I said to the waiter: 'Just start us b

in on this,' sa

caps off the berries; he never said a word, merely swallowing the secretion from h

Dat's kind a feather weight for my ap't

this fried chicken,' I answered, shoving over another bowl of fruit and a big dish w

p of coffee and started to get down from his stool.

more, old

I could stan' a little more, Major; but let me go

he chicken you want-and

er see him repeat that performance than go to a minstrel show. He sl

ave some pi

's you shift the deck, gues

e,' said Weary

is having a third piece

I got to ring off or

ht. I paid the bill; things are high in Montana, you know-his part was $2.85. My hobo f

g good?'

feed, spread out, wou

' Pa

and fried chicken when ham sandwiches straight would touch the spot better,

I reached there on Saturday evening. I went to my customer's store. Just bef

aid I. 'I'll be g

t. The old man serves drinks and the rest of the family- his wife and three daugh

's not as it was in the old days when the man who could tell the most yarns sold the most goods; the old fashioned traveling man is as much behind the times as a bobtailed street car. Well, of course, I told my friend Jerr

annel shirts. But the crowd was orderly. The music made them so. The oldest daughter was only seventeen, but she looked twenty-three. She showed that she'd had enough experience in her life, though, to be gray. There was a tortured soul behind her music. Even

n there felt as I did. Twelve o'clock came, yet no one had left the garden. More had come. Many

and Boyland.' It reminds him of his own happy young days or else recalls the little ones at home at play with their toys. I know I thought of my own dear little tots when I heard the strain. How that

ught of mine. I thought of

h that girl; I owe her a whole lot. She's a genius.' I went. And I thanked

e happy,' she answered, d

u happy in your

such a sad way that i

he girl's father was not of much account or ot

on the spot and there surely ought to be enough money in the town to educate th

they no longer barred her out because, for bread, she played a violin in a beer garden, but they opened their doors to her and helped

is is because some of the feathers grow on the under side of their wings. Much of evil, anyway, like good, is in the t

many hours, perhaps twenty-four, on the train. He needs to forget his business; he does. Less frequently, I wager, t

mething in the game of poker that will keep one's eyes open longer than will the fear of death, so the four kept on playing until time for luncheon. About one o'clock the train stopped for half an hour at a town in Southern Oregon. The party went out to take a stretch. Instead of going into the dining room they bought, at th

ome lunch with them. Just as one of the party opened a bottle of cider a little, barefoot, crippled boy, carrying his cru

rs-only a dime a box," called out the boy. "T

ere-making a living, and supporting somebody, too, by finding his customer

d the youngest of our pa

to give all the winnings to the boy

had been ten cents, but the opener said "I'll

e boy! Strangely enough fo

cents," sai

numbers two and three,

ty," spoke up

three "saw

ks," said

," said n

here," said

spoke up

. "I've the top hand, but the whole pot belongs to the boy

bled across the muddy street, the proudest boy in all Oregon; but h

that he is as good as the governor, that he is no better than the boy who shines his shoes. The traveling man, if he succ

of the boys tell ho

nch

a train to go up to Hailey, an old man came to the ticket window and asked how much t

?' said the old man. 'Eh bien! (

He wasn't worried a bit when the agent told him how much the fare to Butte was. He was really comical, mer

French Canadian. He came to Montana early in the sixties and worked in the mines. Wages were high, but he married and his wife became an invalid; doctors and medicines took nearly all of his money. He struggled on for over thirty years, taking money o

uch do you suppose the old man had in it? Just thirty-five cents! I had just spent half a dollar for cigars and tossed them around. To see that old man, separated from his wife, having to hunt for work to get money so he could go where he co

k like orphans that had found a home. 'Mon Dieu! Monsieur, vous etes un ange du ciel. Merci. Merci.' (My God, sir, you are an

t I would send him my address to Butte so he would be sure

o pass the old Frenchman to Butte. We talked until my train started. Every few sentences

train, pulling away from the stati

made a sign of the cross and said: 'Que Dieu vous p

g was worth a