Waco
The tramp Waco, drifting south through Prescott, fell in with a quartet of his kind camped along the railroad track. He stumbled down the embankment and "sat in" beside their night fire. He was hungry. He had no money, and he had tramped all that day. They were eating bread and canned peaches, and had coffee simmering in a pail. They asked no questions until he had eaten. Then the usual talk began.
The hobos cursed the country, its people, the railroad, work and the lack of it, the administration, and themselves. Waco did not agree with everything they said, but he wished to tramp with them until something better offered. So he fell in with their humor, but made the mistake of cursing the trainmen's union. A brakeman had kicked him off a freight car just outside of Prescott.
One of the hobos checked Waco sharply.
"We ain't here to listen to your cussin' any union," he said. "And seem' you're so mouthy, just show your card."
"Left it over to the White House," said Waco.
"That don't go. You got your three letters?"
"Sure! W.B.Y. Catch onto that?"
"No. And this ain't no josh."
"Why, W.B.Y. is for 'What's bitin' you?' Know the answer?"