Читать книгу Wild Honey онлайн

32 страница из 35

"Catch," he said to Slim, and then he too had vanished.

I wriggled through, and as I was in the midst of my contortions, half in, half out, feeling sympathetic regarding all Hank had said to the wicket, a man strolled past on the station boardwalk, heard the fuss of my scramble and looked round. I met his eyes. He closed the lid of the one nearer to me, and went leisurely on. I can see his face still in memory. Then, somehow, I was out on the bumper. Down on the track stood Hank, looking up.

"Well, that was all right," he whispered to me. "He ain't hostile. Take a peek on that side, and if there's nobody looking just step on to the platform. You've no bindle and they'll think you were just crossing to the depot."

I stepped on to a rung of the end ladder and took a peek. Everybody seemed busy in the depot. I stepped on to the platform, and standing there lit a cigarette, then looked back to tell Hank and Slim all was clear; but they had disappeared, bindles and all. I surmised that they had espied a train-hand on their side and that they had moved away because of him, and paced slowly along the boardwalk, glancing between the cars as I came to the intervening spaces. Between two, further on, I saw Hank standing smoking, no bindle in evidence. He gave me a cheerful nod and a wave of his hand as one saluting an old friend unexpectedly seen.