better hike. I
elected to wait, however, and I had the pleasure of seeing two
west-bound freights go by without stopping, and one east-bound
freight. I wondered if the Swede was on the latter. It was up to me to
hit the ties to Wadsworth, and hit them I did, much to the telegraph
operator's relief, for I neglected to burn his shanty and murder him.
Telegraph operators have much to be thankful for. At the end of half a
dozen miles, I had to get off the ties and let the east-bound overland
go by. She was going fast, but I caught sight of a dim form on the
first "blind" that looked like the Swede.

That was the last I saw of him for weary days. I hit the high places
across those hundreds of miles of Nevada desert, riding the overlands
at night, for speed, and in the day-time riding in box-cars and
getting my sleep. It was early in the year, and it was cold in those
upland pastures. Snow lay here and there on the level, all the
mountains were shrouded in white, and at night the most miserable wind
imaginable blew off from them. It was not a land in which to linger.
And remember, gentle reader, the hobo goes through such a land,
without shelter, without money, begging his way and sleeping at night
without blankets. This last is something that can be realized only by
experience.

In the early evening I came down to the depot at Ogden. The overland
of the Union Pacific was pulling east, and I was bent on making
connections. Out in the tangle of tracks ahead of the engine I
encountered a figure slouching through the gloom. It was the Swede. We
shook hands like long-lost brothers, and discovered that our hands
were gloved. "Where'd ye glahm 'em?" I asked. "Out of an engine-cab,"
he answered; "and where did you?" "They belonged to a fireman," said
I; "he was careless."

We caught the blind as the overland pulled out, and mighty cold we
found it. The way led up a narrow gorge between snow-covered
mountains, and we shivered and shook and exchanged confidences about
how we had covered the ground between Reno and Ogden. I had closed my
eyes for only an hour or so the previous night, and the blind was not
comfortable enough to suit me for a snooze. At a stop, I went forward
to the engine. We had on a "double-header" (two engines) to take us
over the grade.

The pilot of the head engine, because it "punched the wind," I knew
would be too cold; so I selected the pilot of the second engine, which
was sheltered by the first engine.