Business was left; but it needed money, and if he tried to enter it as a
clerk, he must first obtain smart clothes and find somebody to certify
his ability and character, which was impossible. It looked as if he must
be content with manual labor. The wages it commanded were not low and he
was physically strong, but he shrank from the lives the lower ranks of
toilers led when their work was done. The crowded bunk-house and squalid
tenement revolted him. Still, he was young and optimistic; his luck might
change when he went South and chance give him an opportunity of breaking
through the barriers that shut him in. He sat in the corner, pondering,
until it got late and the tired Italian politely turned him out.
Next morning he joined a group of waiting men at the railroad station.
They had a dejected look as they sat upon their bundles outside the
agent's office, except for three or four who were cheerfully drunk. Their
clothes were shabby and of different kinds, for some wore cheap
store-suits and some work-stained overalls. It was obvious that adversity
had brought them together, and Dick did not think they would make amiable
companions. About half appeared to be Americans, but he could not
determine the nationality of the rest, who grumbled in uncouth English
with different accents.
By and by the clerk whom Dick had met came out of the office with a
bundle of tickets, which he distributed, and soon afterwards the train
rolled into the depot. Dick was not pleased to find that a car had been
reserved for the party, since he would sooner have traveled with the
ordinary passengers. Indeed, when a dispute began as the train moved
slowly through the wet street, he left the car. In passing through the
next, he met the conductor, who asked for his ticket, and after tearing
off a section of the long paper, gave him a card, which he gruffly
ordered him to stick in his hat. Then he put his hand on Dick's shoulder,
and pushed him back through the vestibule.
"That's your car behind and you'll stop right there," he said. "Next time
you come out we'll put you off the train."
Dick resigned himself, but stopped on the front platform and looked back
as the train jolted across a rattling bridge. A wide, yellow river ran
beneath it, and the tall factories and rows of dingy houses were fading
in the rain and smoke on the other side. Dick watched them until they
grew indistinct, and then his heart felt lighter. He had endured much in
the grimy town; but all that was over. After confronting, with
instinctive shrinking, industry's grimmest aspect, he was traveling
toward the light and glamour of the South.
Entering the smoking compartment, he found the disturbance had subsided,
and presently fell into talk with a man on the opposite seat who asked
for some tobacco. He told Dick he was a locomotive fireman, but had got
into trouble, the nature of which he did not disclose. Dick never learned
much more about his past than this, but their acquaintance ripened and
Kemp proved a useful friend.