He slid farther down upon his spine, pulled his nice new sombrero
lower on the bridge of his tanned nose, and tried to forget that back
there in the diner they would give him grapefruit on ice, and after
that rolled oats with thick yellow cream, and after that ham and eggs
or a tenderloin steak or broiled squab on toast; and tried to remember
only that the check would make five dollars look sick. He wished he
knew how much the fare would be to some of those places where he meant
to lose himself. With all that classy-looking paraphernalia he would
not dare attempt to beat his way on a freight. He had a keen sense of
relative values; dressed as he was he must keep "in the part." He must
be able to show that he had money. He sighed heavily and turned his
back definitely upon a dining-car breakfast. After that he went to
sleep.

At noon he was awake and too ravenous to worry so much over the
possibility of being arrested for complicity in a murder. He collided
violently with the porter who came down the aisle announcing luncheon.
He raced back through two chair cars and a tourist sleeper, and he
entered the dining car with an emphasis that kept the screen door
swinging for a full half minute. He tipped the waiter who came to fill
his water glass, and told him to wake up and show some speed. Any
waiter will wake up for half a dollar, these hard times. This one
stood looking down over Jack's shoulder while he wrote, so that he was
back with the boullion before Jack had reached the bottom of the
order blank--which is the reason why you have not read anything about
a certain young man dying of starvation while seated at table number
five in a diner, somewhere in the neighborhood of Paso Robles.

When he returned to his place in the chair car he knew he must try to
find out what isolated fishing country was closest. So he fraternized