Wayne scrambled to his feet, commanding Sam to be still, and June groaned and snorted himself awake. The light was thrown aside and, framed in the window, Wayne could see the form of a policeman.
“We aren’t doing any harm, sir,” said the boy. “Just sleeping here.”
“Sleeping here, eh? Haven’t you got a home? How many are there of you?”
“Two, sir. We are on our way to New York and we didn’t have any other place to sleep, so we came in here.”
“Hoboes, eh? Well, you’d better beat it before the lieutenant lamps you. He’s down on you fellows this spring.”
“We aren’t hoboes, sir. We’re looking for work.”
“Yes, I know,” was the ironical response. “Well, come on out of it.”
“But we haven’t any other place, sir. We aren’t doing any harm and——”
“It doesn’t matter about that. What’s your name and where’d you come from?” Wayne told him and the officer grunted. Then: “Get the other fellow up,” he ordered, and, when June had crawled sleepily to his feet, “Hello, a nig, eh? Travelling together, are you?”