“Have you been on the hoof, too?” asked the hobo quickly.
The other smiled.
“Say!” exclaimed the boy. “I bet he’s Banneker. Are you?” he demanded.
“That’s my name.”
“I heard of you three years ago when you was down on the Long Line Sandy,” said the man. He paused and considered. “What’s your lay, Mr. Banneker?” he asked, curiously but respectfully.
“As you see it. Railroading.”
“A gay-cat,” put in the boy with a touch of scorn.
“You hold your fresh lip,” his elder rebuked him. “This gent has treated us like a gent. But why? What’s the idea? That’s what I don’t get.”
“Oh, some day I might want to run for Governor on the hobo ticket,” returned the unsmiling agent.
“You get our votes. Well, so long and much obliged.”