I plumped down in a fence corner and did not stir till I had read a whole play of Shakespeare, and a snatch of my Caesar. Once or twice, sheriffs who were bent on arresting me because I had no visible means of support, let me go, because it awed them to find a tramp reading Shakespeare.... "It's a shame, a clever lad like you bein' a bum!" * * * * * Tramps, though anti-social in the larger aspects of society (as, for that matter, all special classes are, from millionaires down--or up), are more than usually companionable among themselves. I never lived and moved with a better-hearted group of people. By "jungle" camp-fires--("the jungles," any tramp rendezvous located just outside the city limits, to be beyond police jurisdiction), in jails, on freights ... I found a feeling of sincere companionship ... a companionship that without ostentation and as a matter of course, shared the last cent the last meal ... when every cent _was_ the last cent, every meal the _last_ meal ... the rest depending on luck and Providence.... * * * * * Tramps often travel in pairs. I picked up a "buddy" ... a short, thick-set man of young middle age, of Scandinavian descent ... so blond that his eyebrows were white in contrast with his face, which was ruddy with work in the sun. He, like me, was a "gaycat" or tramp who is not above occasional work (as the word meant then--now it means a cheap, no-account grafter). He had recently been working picking oranges ... previous to that, he had been employed in a Washington lumber camp. * * * * * Together we drifted along the seacoast south to San Diego ... then back again to Santa Barbara ... for no reason but just to drift. Then we sauntered over to San Bernardino--"San Berdu," as the tramps call it.... * * * * * It struck chilly, one night. So chilly that we went into the freightyard to put up in an empty box-car till the sun of next day rose to warm the world. We found a car. There were many other men already there, which was good; the animal heat of their bodies made the interior warmer. The interior of the car sounded like a Scotch bagpipe a-drone ... what with snoring, breaking of wind in various ways, groaning, and muttering thickly in dreams ... the air was sickeningly thick and fetid. But to open a side door meant to let in the cold. Softly my buddy and I drew off our shoes, putting them under our heads to serve as pillows, and also to keep them from being stolen. (Often a tramp comes along with a deft enough touch to untie a man's shoes from his feet without waking him. I've heard of its being done.) We wrapped our feet in newspapers, then. Our coats we removed, to wrap them about us ... one keeps warmer that way than by just wearing the coat.... * * * * * The door on each side crashed back! "Here's another nest full of 'em!"