More and more Smith could feel the shacklings of the reputable yesterdays slipping from him. Civilization has taken its time ambling down the centuries, but the short cuts to the primitive are neither hard to find nor long to traverse.
"My 'lay' just now is to get a free ride on this railroad," he said. "How far is this 'empty' going?"
"To St. Louis," was the reply, extorted by the very matter-of-fact calmness of the question. "But you're not goin' to St. Louis in it—not by a jugful. You're goin' to hop off at the first stop we make."
"Am I? Wait until I have finished my smoke. Then we'll open the door and scrap for it; the best man to stay in the car, and the other to take a chance turning handsprings along the right of way. Does that appeal to you?"
"No, by jacks! You bet your life it don't!"
"All right; what's the other answer?"
If the brakeman knew any other answer he did not suggest it. A few miles farther along, the train slowed for a stop. The brakeman felt his twisted neck tenderly and said: "If you'll tell me that you ain't runnin' away from some sheriff 'r other...."
"Do I look it?"
"I'm dogged if I know what you do look like—champeen middle-weight, maybe. Lemme open that door."
Smith took a final whiff and returned the pipe. "Suppose I say that I'm broke and haven't had a chance to pawn my watch," he suggested. "How does that strike you?"