'er up a few minutes now and then. Dead? Say, boy!"

"Well, this night it was a bum. I'm sittin' there in the coop, countin'
my fingers and listenin' to Limon calling off car numbers to
Denver--just like that I'm sittin'--when I hear somethin' out in the
waitin' room. Not very loud.--Well, I go out there, and there's the bum.
Come right into the waitin' room.

"Bum! If he wasn't the father and mother and brother and sister of the
original bum, I'll eat my hat. Almost a Jew-lookin' guy, and he'd saw
hard service. But he's got a kind o' crazy glitter in his eye.

"'Well,' says I, just like that, 'Well, what do you want?'

"He don't whine; he don't handle the pan. He's got that look in his eye.

"'My woman is out in them box cars,' says he. 'I'm goin' to bring her in
here where it's warm.' That's what he says. Not '_can_ I bring her in?'
but '_goin_' to bring her in!' From a _hobo_!

"Can you imagine? It makes me think. It comes to me the guy is really
off his trolley. To keep him calm I says, 'Well--'

"He goes out. 'I'm shed o' _him_,' I says to myself. Not a bit. About
three minutes and here he comes trottin' back, sure enough, bringin' a
woman with him. Now Mister--What's-y'r-name--prepare to laugh. That
there woman--listen--make up your face--she's a _nigger_!

"He says she ain't a nigger.

"'Mexican?' says I.

"'No,' says he.

"I give her another look, but I can't make much out of her, except she's
some kind of a nigger, anyhow. She's sittin' on the bench far away from
the light, and she's dressed in a second-hand horse blanket, a feed
sack, and a bran' new pair of ar'tics. And she don't say a word.

"'Well,' says I, 'if she ain't some kind of nigger, I'll eat my--'

"But there he is, all of a sudden, squarin' off in front o' me, his mug
stuck up and his eyes like a couple o' headlights. Imagine! The guy
ain't got enough meat on his bones for a rest'rant chicken. Honest to
God, he looked like he'd been through a mile o' sausage mill. But crazy
as a bedbug. And there's somethin' about a crazy man--

"'Hold y'r gab!' says he. To _me_! That gets my goat.

"'Just for that,' says I, 'you can get out o' this station. And don't
forget to take your _woman_ along with you. Get out!'

"'Get out--_hell!_' says he. He sticks his mug right in my face.

"'That woman you speak so light of,' says he, 'is a queen. A Canuck
queen,' say he.

"I had to laugh. 'Since when was there queens in Canada?' says I. 'And
s