"Come down, quick!" he cried. "Tramps and hobos are not allowed on this train."
This was quite enough for John Reginald Peele, and without any more ado he crawled down.
My first impulse was to knock out my insulter with a lump of hard coal, but better judgment prevailed, and I soon reached the ground by his side.
After all, I reasoned, he was only performing his duty in putting me down, and he was fully justified in calling me a tramp and a hobo, for I was not only acting both these parts very well, but was now looking the part.
"Come down quick!" he cried. "Tramps and hobos are not
allowed on this train."
Before boarding the train I had been spotlessly clean. Now my hands were black, my white collar soiled, and my new clothes nearly ruined.
This was the picture I presented to a score or more of curious passengers, who had poked their heads out of the car windows to ascertain the cause of the delay.