Caught this drag, nothin’ but a slow-assed work train makin’ its way North. I was ridin’ out in the open on this flat and somewhere’s near Madras a few a them long-haired track workers started throwin’ rocks at me. The train was movin’ pretty slow, so soon’s I was outta sight, I hopped off ‘n stashed my gear ‘n walked back to where they’s workin’. I walked up to one of ‘em, ‘n he sez “What’s the matter, old man.” I didn’t say nothin’. Hit him in the nose so hard he fell over backwards. I tried my best to break it. Don’t know if I did or not. Then the other three guys come after me, ‘n I grabbed a pick handle and began hollerin’ at those sons of a bitches. They was gonna get me good, but I figgered I’d take another one er two down with me. They’re surrounding me like a pack a wild dogs. And their foreman comes over and asks what’s the matter, ‘n I told him what happened ‘n he tells the guy I hit to go draw his pay. He tells the rest of ‘em it’s tramps that built this railroad b’fore they was even born ‘n instead of showin’ some respect, you go and throw rocks at ‘em. Laid into ‘em real good.
He sez to me, “Where you headed?” ‘And I tells him Bend, ‘n he sez, “I’ll see you get there.” I tells him I got my gear stashed about a mile back, and he sez to go get it ‘n meet him back there. I got back with my gear, ‘n he give me a ride all the way to Bend on one a them motorized hand cars.