The train was still moving at a lively clip as we leaped off. Catching our stride, we raced for the sagebrush on the right. The officers set up another racket, but apparently considered a chase hopeless. Circling widely, we came to a squat building on the outskirts of town. From within rose a hum of machinery and in the doorway stood the stalwart figure of a young man. He hailed us merrily. “Hello, there! Where are you going in such a hurry?” We explained our plight, and he was good enough to come to our aid. We entered the power plant and watched the youth fetch out water, soap and towels for our convenience. Catching sight of myself in a mirror, I uttered a cry of surprise. Coated with dust as I was from the long ride so close to the engine, I more nearly resembled a negress than a white woman. While we removed the stains of travel, the boy placed coffee pot and frying pan on a small stove in a corner and soon spread a savoury meal on the pine table. While we ate, he explained that he had the night shift at the plant and slept in the building during the day. He had a reputation for feeding every hobo who came along. Consequently, the officers might come there to look for us. Besides, the day man was not so charitable, so it would be well for us to be out of sight before he arrived. Leading the way to his little cubby hole of a room, he pulled the bed out from the wall so that it stood almost across the doorway, and spread some quilts on the floor behind it. Tossing our bundles out of sight, he suggested that we lie down and remain as quiet as possible. We were scarcely hidden when the day man arrived. Our friend complained of a sick headache and said he had moved his bed to get more fresh air. He had darkened the room as much as possible and now threw himself down and feigned sleep. Three men approached the door. “Say, Frank,” one began, “a couple of hoboes came up this way and we want ’em. You better come across now and tell us where they went. We’re getting tired of the way you run a tramp roost up here.” “Well, you’ve got your nerve, I must say. Can’t a fellow get any rest from you fee-chasing scavengers? Here I go to bed with a sick headache, and no sooner do I fall asleep than you come chasing hoboes and wake me up again. If you want any information, why in hell don’t you talk to Harry? Ask him if he’s seen any tramps.” “Sorry if you’re sick, old man,” answered one of the officers soothingly. “We didn’t mean to disturb you.” “Cut the bunk,” growled another. “I want to know if you saw these bums?” “No, I haven’t seen any bums,” shouted Frank savagely. “Furthermore, I want you pussy-footed bulls to clear out of here. I’m sick, and I want to sleep.” He whirled over with his back to the door. The officers stood about uncertainly for a few minutes and then we heard them tramping about the building. When all was quiet, Frank thrust his head over the edge of the bed.