"Yer might go sailin'!"
"Is that your staple article of diet?"
"No, I don't eat them except in restaurants," said A. No. 1, seriously. "Here is what I do with them." He pulled a good-sized tuber from his pocket, opened a large clasp knife and speedily had it peeled. Then he proceeded to cut and carve, and in about three minutes had fashioned a grotesque human face on the potato, the lines coarse, to be sure, but nevertheless well outlined.
Tramp An Artist.
"I make these and can carve anyone's face, and I can sell them anywhere from 25 cents to $2," said the tramp. "I'm the only man in this country who can do such work, and there's a demand for it everywhere I stop long enough to do it. I only stop to do it when I have to, so that I can get a little money for a meal and pay little expenses, although my living doesn't cost me much. Then, again, I never drink or smoke, so that item is cut off. They don't know so much about me in Chicago as in other places, because I never stopped here long enough to get acquainted; but they know me back East, all right, and out in the West."
Then A. No. 1 paused long enough to draw his breath and showed a medal certifying that in 1894 he had hoboed his way across the continent in eleven days and six hours in company with the representative of an Eastern paper and had been given $1,000 for doing it.
"That's how I first became famous," he said, "but I took good care of the money. I went and bought myself a lot in a graveyard at Cambridge Springs, Pa., so I could be buried respectably when I die, and I paid part of the premium on a sick benefit so that I can be taken care of in case I fall sick suddenly. I'm a member of the Chamber of Commerce of that town, too. I believe in looking out for A. No. 1, and that's why I've been so prosperous in the tramping way."
Then A. No. 1 launched into a long and picturesque description of the ways of tramps in general and himself in particular.
"I've always been particular about some things," said he, "and one is to keep clean. I find that in asking for a handout the man who looks up-to-date is the man who gets it. I always wear a suit of overalls when I'm tramping, for I find that it prevents me from being annoyed by watchmen in railroad yards. I am generally taken for an engineer. While I was down in a yard here in Chicago one man came and asked if I had a car lock, thinking I was a railroad man. I told him I did not have one and walked off. I have prevented a number of train wrecks, tramping about, probably at least one every year. The last one, as you see by this letter, was a few months ago. I saw a freight running along with a broken truck dragging. I jumped aboard and gave the warning, as you can see by this clipping. I have also been in a number of wrecks myself, and have never been injured. I always carry a little bottle of cyanide of potassium in my pocket so that in case I am ever fatally injured and in great agony I can take it and end all my trouble in about 20 seconds."