“How about some lunch, Kiwi?”
Kiwi unwrapped his own sandwiches and climbing up on the tank offered them to Dad and Jack, but found that they were already busy with some of their own. The food and coffee seemed to cheer up the two men, and the engine hummed merrily along carrying them on their way.
Sitting crouched on the top of the tank, Kiwi’s head nodded several times. Feeling himself slipping off into slumber, he stretched out. Above the noise of the engine he could hear Dad singing with great gusto an old negro spiritual that he was very fond of:
“I’m goin’ to tell God all o’ my troubles,
When I get home.
I’m goin’ to tell God all o’ my troubles,
When I get home.
“I’m goin’ to tell Him the road was rocky,
When I get ho-o-m-m-e.
I’m goin’ to tell Him the road was rocky,