A farmer’s team crossing the bridge woke us at daylight. I got up at once, cold and sore from the hard ground, and made a fire. The other two crawled out of their blankets and went down to the creek to wash. I followed them. They both had soap wrapped in paper. One of them gave me his piece. I washed and returned it. He placed it on a rock till it was dry, then wrapped it up and put it in his coat pocket. They also had pocket combs and small round mirrors. We went back to the fire and discussed breakfast. “Nothing but Java,” said the bum that had the coffee. “I’ll go to the farmhouse,” I volunteered, “and buy something.” “Nix, nix,” said one; “buy nothin’,” said the other, “it’s you kind of cats that make it tough on us, buyin’ chuck. They begin to expect money. You go up to that house,” pointing to a place on a small rise, about fifteen minutes’ walk, “and tell the woman you and two other kids run away from home in the city three days ago and you ain’t had nothin’ but a head of cabbage that fell off a farmer’s wagon between youse since you left. Tell her you are on your way back home and the other two kids are down by the bridge so hungry they can’t walk. On your way up there git a phony name and street number ready in case she asks you questions. She’ll give you a sit-down for yourself, chances are, but bring back a ‘lump’ for us. You’re a decent-lookin’ kid; she might git worked up about your troubles and ask a lot of dam’ fool questions. Cut her off. Tell her you’re ashamed to be settin’ there wasting time and the other boys starvin’ under the bridge.” Before I got to the house a couple of dogs dashed out, barking savagely. A healthy, matronly woman came out and quieted them, looking at me inquiringly. I told her myself and two boy friends, runaways from home, were hungry and I wanted some food, that I would be glad to pay her for anything she could spare, and if she would wrap it up I would hurry down to the bridge with it, where my chums were waiting. “Yes,” she said kindly, “come in. I haven’t much here, but maybe I can find enough.” She gave me a seat outside near the kitchen door, where I waited and made friends with the dogs. In no time she came out with a large parcel, and refused the money I offered. I thanked her and went down to the bridge with my “lump.” The bums had coffee boiling. We found enough tin cans to drink from and opened the parcel. It contained cold, fried chicken, cold biscuits, and half a pie. “You’re a good connecter, kid; sure you didn’t pay for this?” one of them said. “No, and I didn’t have to answer any questions. It was easy except for the dogs.”