The old timers, some of ‘em got shacks in a railroad town, not far from a division. That way, they kinda keep in touch with who’s doin’ what. There’s that bunch in Wishram, Hatchet George and them. They all got shacks up the hill. I think a couple of ‘em even got runnin’ water. Then there’s some shacks over in Everett. Bill and Jake built ‘em some pretty nice places. Them guys in the shacks is pretty much settled down; don’t ride like they used to. But they’ll come down to the yards and catch up on things. There’s other guys ain’t so sociable. There’s Whistlin’ Jack over on the Columbia. He’s got himself a shack, been there nine years. It’s in a clump of trees below the tracks. You could pass within a hundred feet of it n’ not see it if you weren’t lookin’. Pretty well hid. Brush growed up all around it. He’s a loner. Don’t want no one comin’ around, not even another tramp. If I see him squatted by his fire, I’ll give him a wave, but that’s about it. If a guy don’t want to go associatin’ with the human race, it’ not my affair, let him be.

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