Atlanta and as far west as Denver. He got his three dollars and a half a
day, rain or shine, and thought it wonderful pay; and besides, he was
seein' the country "free, gratis, fer nothing."

He got his coat out of the truck and took from the pocket a
many-coloured folder.

"Say, Mister, have you ever been to the Northwest?"

"No," said I.

"Well, it's a great country, and I'm goin' up there."

He spread out the glittering folder and placed his big forefinger on a
spot about the size of Rhode Island somewhere this side of the Rockies.

"How'll you do it?" I asked.

"Oh, a lineman can go anywhere," said he with a flourish, "A lineman
don't have to beg a job. Besides, I got eighty dollars sewed up."

Talk about freedom! Never have I got a clearer impression of it than
Bill gave me that day. No millionaire, no potentate, could touch him.

The crew came back all too soon for me. Bill knocked the ashes out of
his pipe on his boot heel, and put his "bucket" back in the truck. Five
minutes later he was climbing a tall pole with legs bowed out, striking
in his spikes at each step. From the cross-arm, up among the hemlock
tops, he called out to me: