As the train went into the yards I kicked the boards loose at the top where they were cut, and pulled them away from below where they were nailed. This gave me a hole large enough to crawl out of, which I did, feet first, pulling my coat after, when she stopped. Up on the main street I learned I was in Dodge City, Kansas, a town at that time largely given over to gambling, fighting, and whisky drinking. I wasn’t interested in any of those amusements then. I got something to eat and went to a cheap room for the night. Tired out, I slept till noon the next day. Then I went down to the yards to look for another train out. Near the depot I met a character who looked like a bum. He gave me a sharp look. “Goin’ down in the yards, young feller?” “Yes, why?” “Better wait till night if you want to make a train. The railroad bull is hostile. They found a bum dead in a car of lumber this morning, and they had to tear the end of the car off to get his body out. He must have been an awful gay cat to get into the end of a carload of planed lumber. It’s suicide.” I went back uptown and into a lunch counter. The waiter was idle and talkative. “Traveling?” he asked. “Yes.” “Which way?” “Denver.” “Beating it?” “Yes.” “Listen here, it’ll take you three or four days to make Denver that way. You’ll ruin your clothes and maybe get grabbed off a train and handed thirty days at Colorado Springs—big chain gang there—they’re cleaning up the streets. If you can dig up five dollars I’ll give you a card to a porter on the Overland to-night. Give him the five and he’ll do the rest.” “Thanks, I’ll try it.” I met the train and the porter who took the card and my five dollars, stowed me away in the linen closet, and locked the door. I was almost suffocated. Once in the night he opened the closet. “How you makin’ out, buddy?” “All right,” I said, and the door was locked again. Next morning he gave me a piece of steak between slices of bread, and a bottle of coffee. After that I felt better and dozed in a cramped, sitting position in a corner. That afternoon at Denver I was released, happy, hungry, cramped, and tired. I rented a cheap room for a week, went to a barber shop, and had a bath. I thought twenty-five cents for a bath a rank waste of money and decided to find a swimming hole. In a few days I found one. There was a sort of camp for bums on the river bank under some trees. They had their fires there, and cans for boiling coffee. They used to lie around, washing and boiling their clothes, and swimming. They stole chickens around the neighborhood and anything else they could get. One afternoon I was in swimming, when suddenly there was an alarm and everybody ran. I didn’t pay any attention to it at first; then I got out of the water and ran for my clothes. I had just about got them on when the police arrived and grabbed me.