The Trail of 98 | Page 6

immediately. No experience was required, and the wages
were to be two dollars a day. With a number of others I pressed forward,
was interviewed and accepted. The same day we were marched in a
body to the railway depot and herded into a fourth-class car.
Where we were going I knew not; of what we were going to do I had
no inkling. I only knew we were southbound, and at long last I might
fairly consider myself to be the shuttlecock of fortune.
CHAPTER IV
I left San Francisco blanketed in grey fog and besomed by a roaring
wind; when I opened my eyes I was in a land of spacious sky and broad,
clean sunshine. Orange groves rushed to welcome us; orchards of
almond and olive twinkled joyfully in the limpid air; tall, gaunt and
ragged, the scaly eucalyptus fluttered at us a morning greeting, while
snowy houses, wallowing in greenery, flashed a smile as we rumbled
past. It seemed like a land of promise, of song and sunshine, and silent
and apart I sat to admire and to enjoy.
"Looks pretty swell, don't it?"
I will call him the Prodigal. He was about my own age, thin, but
sun-browned and healthy. His hair was darkly red and silky, his teeth
white and even as young corn. His eyes twinkled with a humorsome
light, but his face was shrewd, alert and aggressive.

"Yes," I said soberly, for I have always been backward with strangers.
"Pretty good line. The banana belt. Old Sol working overtime. Blossom
and fruit cavorting on the same tree. Eternal summer. Land of the
mañana, the festive frijole, the never-chilly chili. Ever been here
before?"
"No."
"Neither have I. Glad I came, even if it's to do the horny-handed son of
toil stunt. Got the makings?"
"No, I'm sorry; I don't smoke."
"All right, guess I got enough."
He pulled forth a limp sack of powdery tobacco, and spilled some
grains into a brown cigarette paper, twisting it deftly and bending over
the ends. Then he smoked with such enjoyment that I envied him.
"Where are we going, have you any idea?" I asked.
"Search me," he said, inhaling deeply; "the guy in charge isn't exactly a
free information bureau. When it comes to peddling the bull con he's
there, but when you try to pry off a few slabs of cold hard fact it's his
Sunday off."
"But," I persisted, "have you no idea?"
"Well, one thing you can bank on, they'll work the Judas out of us. The
gentle grafter nestles in our midst. This here's a cinch game and we are
the fall guys. The contractors are a bum outfit. They'll squeeze us at
every turn. There was two plunks to the employment man; they got half.
Twenty for railway fare; they come in on that. Stop at certain hotels: a
rake-off there. Stage fare: more graft. Five dollars a week for board:
costs them two-fifty, and they will be stomach robbers at that. Then
they'll ring in twice as many men as they need, and lay us off half the
time, so that we just about even up on our board bill. Oh, I'm onto their

curves all right."
"Then," I said, "if you know so much why did you come with us?"
"Well, if I know so much you just bet I know some more. I'll go one
better. You watch my smoke."
He talked on with a wonderful vivid manner and an outpouring
knowledge of life, so that I was hugely interested. Yet ever and anon an
allusion of taste would betray him, and at no time did I fail to see that
his roughness was only a veneer. As it turned out he was better
educated by far than I, a Yale boy taking a post-graduate course in the
University of Hard Luck.
My reserve once thawed, I told him much of my simple life. He
listened, intently sympathetic.
"Say," said he earnestly when I had finished, "I'm rough-and-ready in
my ways. Life to me's a game, sort of masquerade, and I'm the worst
masquerader in the bunch. But I know how to handle myself, and I can
jolly my way along pretty well. Now, you're green, if you'll excuse me
saying it, and maybe I can help you some. Likewise you're the only one
in all the gang of hoboes that's my kind. Come on, let's be partners."
I felt greatly drawn to him and agreed gladly.
"Now," said he, "I must go and jolly along the other boys. Aren't they a
fierce bunch? Coloured gentlemen, Slavonians, Polaks, Dagoes,
Swedes--well, I'll go prospecting, and see what I can strike."
He went among them with a jabber of strange terms, a bright smile and
ready banter, and I could