"No fear of that," replied the other. "I guess my way of travelling wouldn't suit you. I go in a Pullman Palace box car," and the boy laughed merrily.
"A what car?"
"A Pullman Palace Box!" returned the boy. "I'm going to beat my way."
At last, thought Ben, I see a way out of the woods!
"Are you indeed! That is identically the way I am going to travel. Do you think you can get to St. Louis?"
"Get there!" exclaimed the patron of the palace box disdainfully. "Get there! Well, I should say, I have just made it from Boston here, and I made it from Montreal to Boston. I know all the ropes, now;—sure as you live, I do. And are you broke too?"
"Yes," replied Cleveland; "and that is not the worst of it. I never was broke before, and, to tell the truth, I'm a novice at beating my way, and do not know just how to do it."
"Why, so far as that goes, beating one's way is like any other kind of work. It is work. To be sure it's not quite so pleasant as paying your way, and you have to put up with a good bit, but if you have the nerve you may rest assured that you will get to your destination all right. As we are going the same way, suppose we go together?"
"Agreed!" said Ben, glad to have fallen in with some one posted in the vagabond life he was about entering upon.
"Then we're pards. Here's my hand on it!" and Ben grasped a warm, soft hand in his and the compact was duly signed and sealed.