He was unfortunate that evening, for no one asked for his services as skating instructor. And about eight o’clock, as he was beginning to be ravenously hungry by reason of having missed his lunch, he left the rink and sought a restaurant.
Sandwiches at five cents each and a hungry boy of fourteen with a lone twenty-five-cent piece in his sweaty palm do not make a very satisfactory combination. One sandwich after another he felt obliged to eat, until four had been consumed. Then, still hungry but painfully aware that only five cents remained of his precious quarter, he paid up and went out into the lighted street.
Back at the rink he skated for an hour with no more luck than earlier in the evening. Only then did the problem of quarters for the night present itself to him as a grim reality. So he skated on until closing time, and then went out no richer than he had entered.
Well, he had become an outlaw, and outlaws must make the best of things. He sauntered along the street, marveling that a March night could be so cold at twelve o’clock. The crowds had long since thinned, and only here and there he encountered a lone pedestrian hurrying—somewhere. He avoided three policemen, and took to a side street, wandering toward the railroad yards.
He wondered if he could find Madge’s camp. Surely, in a camp, there would be some place for him to sleep. This was a trifle different than he had planned—different from his imaginings over there in the sunny, swampy lot where he and his brother had awaited the coming of Slinky Dawson.
He found the freight yards eventually, avoided the depot and other railroad buildings, and made his way to the farther end of the property. He crossed a system of tracks, and then the open door of an empty boxcar invited him to enter and make himself at home. He crawled inside, closed the creaky door, and lay down in a corner on the floor. It was warmer here, and he made a pillow of his arm. He began to revise his plans, but in the midst of this he fell asleep.
Several times that night he awoke with the cold, but was so worn out and sleepy that he at once dozed off again. A severe shock brought him fully awake at last, and he felt the car moving gently. He ran to the door and slid it open. Sitting down with his feet dangling, he jumped unexpertly to the ground, and was at once confronted by a grimy switchman.
“Well, kid, where’d you come from?” he asked in a not unkindly tone.
“From in there,” was Joshua’s unnecessary answer to an equally unnecessary question.
“On the bum?”