"Seems to me they have ... they act as if they know what they're in for, at the other end of the line."
"By golly, that's true! I never thought of it that way before!"
So conversed the head brakeman and I.
My calves soon grew to know me. They bleated, in a friendly manner, as I walked by, overseeing them, when the freight stopped.
We had bumped along as far as Buffalo. There the stock were driven down an incline into yards fenced in with white-washed boards, for their second rest, required by law,—before launching on the last leg of their journey down the middle of New York State, and along the Hudson ... consigned to Stern and Company of New York....
Some of them were to be butchered there and afford apartment-dwellers lamb stew, tenderloins, and pork chops ... others to be driven aboard cattleboats, for Europe....
At Buffalo I was ripe for a change. Also I wished to pick up threads of former experiences and acquaintanceships ... to have a good gossip about the Eos Art Community ... I called up Laston Meunier who had been at Eos and whom I had first met there ... who loved bohemian ways, and welcomed wandering artistic and literary folk at his home in Buffalo.
"Where are you now?" Laston asked, over the phone.