“What’s that, Mas’ Wayne?”
“Buy a stamp with two cents of that ten and write back to Mr. Higgins for money to get home with. I reckon we’re just about at the end of the halter, June.”
“Don’ you believe that, Mas’ Wayne,” replied June stoutly. “An’ don’ you go writin’ no letter to that old skinflint stepdaddy of yours. Jus’ you give me another chance an’ see what I goin’ to bring home tomorrow! We’ll go get us a cup of coffee an’ then we’ll feel a heap perkier, yes, sir! An’ then we’ll jus’ go to sleep an’ get up in the mornin’ feelin’ fine an’ start right out an’ lan’ somethin’. Don’ you go gettin’ discouraged, Mas’ Wayne. We’s goin’ to be livin’ on the fat of the lan’ in two-three days!”
“There’s another town, bigger than this, June, about twenty miles from here. Maybe we’d better mosey along over there and see if things are any better. Seems to me I’ve been in most every place in this town asking for work now, and I’m beginning to forget which ones I’ve been to and which ones I haven’t.”
“Well, I don’ know,” answered June. “Sometimes it seems like it’s the wisest thing to stay right to home an’ not go projeckin’ ’roun’. We’s got a comfor’ble place to sleep here, Mas’ Wayne, an’ there ain’ no tellin’ what would happen to us if we went totin’ off to this other place, is there? ’Spose you an’ me goes an’ has that coffee first. Seems like I can always think a heap better after meals.”
“A cup of coffee isn’t much of a meal,” objected Wayne, “but I reckon it’s going to taste mighty good to me. We’ll go to the lunch-wagon for it. You get better coffee there than the other places we’ve been to.”
The lunch-wagon was crowded and they had to wait for several minutes before they could get waited on by Mr. Connor. He always seemed glad to see them and still took a great interest in Sam, but usually there were too many others there to allow of much conversation. Tonight he only nodded and smiled as he passed the cups to them, and they retired to the side of the wagon and drank the beverage gratefully, wishing there was more of it and trying hard to keep their gaze from the viands displayed beyond the long counter. Fortunately for Sam, he had already become acquainted with a number of the regular patrons of the Golden Star Lunch and was almost always certain of food. The men who took their meals there, workers in the nearby factories and railroad hands, were for the most part rough but kindly and many crusts of bread and scraps of meat went to Sam, who, duly grateful and willing to show his few tricks in return for the favours bestowed on him, allowed no familiarities. When anyone other than Wayne or June tried to pat him he backed away, politely but firmly.
The coffee did the boys good, although it felt awfully lonesome where they put it, and they returned to the shed in a more cheerful frame of mind. It was still too early to go to bed, but the station was several blocks away and there was no nearer place to resort to, and so presently they stretched themselves out on the floor of the shed, drew the horse blanket over them, and were soon asleep. How much later it was when Wayne awoke with a blinding glare of light in his eyes there was no way of telling.
For a moment he blinked dazedly, his brain still fogged with sleep. Then he sat up, and Sam, disturbed, sniffed and broke into shrill barking. June, a sounder sleeper, still snored when a gruff voice came from the direction of the light which Wayne now realised was thrown by a lantern.
“What are you doing in here? Come on now! Get out!” said the voice.