"Put on all you can and be quick," I exclaimed, in answer to his questioning gaze.
He needed no second invitation, and I now began to stuff my pockets with the smaller things, again inviting him to follow suit. About the first thing he grabbed up was a $1.50 razor, which I politely deprived him of.
Within a few minutes the train slackened speed and pulled into the yards.
Quickly alighting and bidding me to follow, the negro made off from the tracks at full speed.
At first I thought he was running away with my things, but the wisdom of the move was soon apparent, for at a safe distance, he pointed out to me two slow moving lights going up and down both sides of the train we had just deserted.
"Spotters," he whispered, breathing heavily.
I realized then just how green I was at the profession of hoboing. Undoubtedly I would have again been picked up, and this time it might not have gone so easily with me as at Chadbourn.
For nearly an hour we walked about the streets of Florence looking for a restaurant, but it was yet too early for them to open, and, disappointed, we returned to the railroad yards.
Two or three trains were beginning to pull out when we arrived.