im in the
cab. But as I did not have to work all the time, I could come into the
cab and warm up now and again.

"Say," I said to the fireman, at my first breathing spell, "there's a
little kid back there on the first blind. He's pretty cold."

The cabs on the Union Pacific engines are quite spacious, and we
fitted the kid into a warm nook in front of the high seat of the
fireman, where the kid promptly fell asleep. We arrived at Rawlins at
midnight. The snow was thicker than ever. Here the engine was to go
into the round-house, being replaced by a fresh engine. As the train
came to a stop, I dropped off the engine steps plump into the arms of
a large man in a large overcoat. He began asking me questions, and I
promptly demanded who he was. Just as promptly he informed me that he
was the sheriff. I drew in my horns and listened and answered.

He began describing the kid who was still asleep in the cab. I did
some quick thinking. Evidently the family was on the trail of the kid,
and the sheriff had received telegraphed instructions from Oregon.
Yes, I had seen the kid. I had met him first in Ogden. The date
tallied with the sheriff's information. But the kid was still behind
somewhere, I explained, for he had been ditched from that very
overland that night when it pulled out of Rock Springs. And all the
time I was praying that the kid wouldn't wake up, come down out of the
cab, and put the "kibosh" on me.

The sheriff left me in order to interview the shacks, but before he
left he said:--

"Bo, this town is no place for you. Understand? You ride this train
out, and make no mistake about it. If I catch you after it's gone ..."

I assured him that it was not through desire that I was in his town;
that the only reason I was there was that the train had stopped there;
and that he wouldn't see me for smoke the way I'd get out of his darn
town.

While he went to interview the shacks, I jumped back into the cab. The
kid was awake and rubbing his eyes. I told him the news and advised
him to ride the engine into the round-house. To cut the story short,
the kid made the same overland out, riding the pilot, with
instructions to make an appeal to the fireman at the first stop for
permission to ride in the engine. As for myself, I got ditched. The
new fireman was young and not yet lax enough to break the rules of the
Company against having tramps in the engine; so he turned down my
offer to shove coal. I hope the kid succeed