‘“Sorry. I guess I’m run out. Where can I get some?”
‘“Not till Carlisle. We have two hours to go yet.”
‘“I reckon we pass other bum towns en route.”
‘“Oh yes.”
‘“Well, I guess I’ll call the guard,” said Tosher, jumping up to the alarm-cord.
‘“You can’t pull that—you’ll be fined.”
‘“What? I’m a Canadian!” And he pulled the cord. The brakes went on with a bang, and the old guard hurried up along the line.
‘“Say, old Father Time,” shouted Tosher.
‘“What’s up?”
‘“Stop yer old bus at the next bum town. I want some cigars to chew.”