“You should not allow that disreputable tramp to hang around your camp,” the stranger said. “People complain that you are harbouring hoboes and criminals, and it is giving you a bad reputation.”
His words loosed the flood of seething indignation that had been gathering strength with each succeeding day. I described the heartless treatment accorded us by the townspeople; I told the story of Larabo, and concluded with a scathing arraignment and denunciation of the Chief of Police who permitted such outrages. As I paused for breath the stranger broke in.
“I feel sure that the things of which you complain are mostly due to lack of understanding,” said he. “Take this Chief of Police now. He is really not such a bad fellow. His intentions are good. Fact is, I’m the Chief. Some of our good people have been complaining and calling this a tramp roost, and have asked me to have you arrested or run out of town.”
“You don’t look like the heartless brute that I had pictured, and I am glad indeed to meet you,” I responded, “for now I feel sure that you will take poor Larabo up town and protect him while he is earning enough money to get away.”
With that I invited the Chief to have a seat on a stump and we talked with mutual benefit and pleasure until Dan returned. The men were introduced and Dan explained that he had secured work with room and board for Larabo with a Socialist family, who would treat him kindly and vouch for his good behaviour. All that was necessary was for the Chief to grant permission for him to remain in town and furnish protection from official thugs.
Larabo was summoned and came reluctantly. I bade him and the Chief good-bye as Dan went with them to see our protégé settled in his new quarters. When Dan gets back we, too, will bid adieu to the rhubarb field and go our way with a satisfied feeling of work well done.
SIXTEEN
August 9th,
Ogden, Utah.