I was trying to, but I couldn't get the thing open. Five thousand
dollars in that safe and I couldn't get it. I spun the dial frantically
and started over.
But now the ramp was filled with people. The cops were getting off the
elevator. I jumped up and ran over to where Steve was standing.
The building inspector was staring bug-eyed at his huge car. Somebody
went around the stall and saw the six-inch car crawling out. Somebody
else took hold of the stall and shook it. "Where's my car? What's going
on?"
Well, a mob is a funny thing. In about half a minute there were eight
hundred people in that basement, and all of them tearing apart the
reducing stall.
Slim and I hesitated no longer. We ran up the stairway and sifted out
through the crowd....
* * * * *
At three o'clock in the morning Slim said to me, "You think that
brakeman will kick us off?"
The brakeman came to us, sitting up there in the fresh night breeze on
top of a carload of lettuce going east from California. He looked at
me and then, as if he didn't believe it, he held his lantern up and
examined my head all the way around.
"Why don't you go back to the farm? This ain't no life for you," he
growled.
"I am considering that very seriously," I said with as much dignity as
I could.