I move slow. It don’t make no difference; a good tramp’s never in a hurry. I seen two guys the other day, sittin’ over by the rock pile, waitin’ on that Vancouver man. Ev’ry so often, maybe ev’ry fifteen minutes er so, one of ‘em gets up an’ takes a good long look down the main line, expectin’ ta see them units comin’ inta sight. Getting’ impatient, like they had an appointment er somethin’. Spent all day wearin’ out their shoes, an’ they didn’t go nowheres. Musta walked b’tween the rock pile an’ the tracks nearly thirty times ‘fore they fine’ly give up. The railroad ain’t no place for anabody’s in a hurry. A freight train don’t have no use for a schedule. It pulls outta the yards when it’s got it’s tonnage, an’ no sooner, so no use crainin’ yer neck watchin’ on the thing. Ain’t gonna make it get there any quicker. He’ll get there when he gets there, an’ if ya miss it, they’ll be another one comin’ ‘long sooner er later. Ya just stay with it, an’ ya can’t go wrong.

44.