"St. Louis," answered Ben.
"St. Louis be blowed. I come from there three months ago. The town's a good town, but its always crowded. Better go South. Cold weather's coming on before long,
"And I sigh for the land,
Where the orange blossoms bloom."
And he wound up by singing these lines in a rich baritone voice.
"Where are you fellows going?" asked Tom.
"Cincinnati, sure's you breathe," answered one.
"An' then New Orleans an' the jetties! We're the United States Special Commission for ascertaining the depth of water in the South West Pass,—that's who we are!" said the terpsichorean artist; and another series of jig steps emphasized this important announcement.
"Hello, young fellow," exclaimed the third man, extending a nod of recognition to Tommy. "How de do. Got this fur, hev ye?"
Tommy recognized a fellow traveller who had journeyed from Hartford to New Haven in a Pullman palace box car with him. He recounted what had happened to him since they last met, and in return his old companion told him he had been to Albany, taken a look at the Legislature, saw the political bummers gathered there and felt ashamed of their company, departed for Troy to attend a municipal election, got on a glorious spree, been locked up, had the freedom of the outskirts of the city granted him at the police court, "beat" his way to New York on a North River boat, and was now migrating South to save the expenses of an overcoat.