would arrive about noon and that it would be a good idea to
have dinner ready for them. The authorities of Grand Island had two
courses open to them. They could feed us, or they could throw us in
jail. In the latter event they'd have to feed us anyway, and they
decided wisely that one meal would be the cheaper way.

When the freight rolled into Grand Island at noon, we were sitting on
the tops of the cars and dangling our legs in the sunshine. All the
police in the burg were on the reception committee. They marched us in
squads to the various hotels and restaurants, where dinners were
spread for us. We had been thirty-six hours without food, and we
didn't have to be taught what to do. After that we were marched back
to the railroad station. The police had thoughtfully compelled the
freight to wait for us. She pulled out slowly, and the eighty-five of
us, strung out along the track, swarmed up the side-ladders. We
"captured" the train.

We had no supper that evening--at least the "push" didn't, but I did.
Just at supper time, as the freight was pulling out of a small town,
a man climbed into the car where I was playing pedro with three other
stiffs. The man's shirt was bulging suspiciously. In his hand he
carried a battered quart-measure from which arose steam. I smelled
"Java." I turned my cards over to one of the stiffs who was looking
on, and excused myself. Then, in the other end of the car, pursued by
envious glances, I sat down with the man who had climbed aboard and
shared his "Java" and the hand-outs that had bulged his shirt. It was
the Swede.

At about ten o'clock in the evening, we arrived at Omaha.

"Let's shake the push," said the Swede to me.

"Sure," said I.

As the freight pulled into Omaha, we made ready to do so. But the
people of Omaha were also ready. The Swede and I hung upon the
side-ladders, ready to drop off. But the freight did not stop.
Furthermore, long rows of policemen, their brass buttons and stars
glittering in the electric lights, were lined up on each side of the
track. The Swede and I knew what would happen to us if we ever dropped
off into their arms. We stuck by the side-ladders, and the train
rolled on across the Missouri River to Council Bluffs.

"General" Kelly, with an army of two thousand hoboes, lay in camp at
Chautauqua Park, several miles away. The after-push we were with was
General Kelly's rear-guard, and, detraining at Council Bluffs, it
started to march to camp. Th