said the old hobo. 'Back to California, where I came from,' said the
can. 'All right!' said the old hobo, 'I'm goin' there, too.' And he
picked the can up and hung it round his neck and kept on walking till
they came to a house. The window of the house was open and they could
see a big fat bottle on a little table. 'Ah!' said the old hobo 'here's
an old friend of mine!--he's comin' with us, too,' And he shoved his arm
through the window and put the bottle in his pocket. By and by they came
to a river--'Hey!' said the can, again--'What's up?' said the old
hobo--'I'm dry,' said the can--'So am I,' said the hobo; and he dipped
the can in the water and gave it a very little drink. 'Hey!' said the
can, 'give us a drop more!'--'Wait a bit!' said the old hobo, and he
pulled the cork out of the bottle. 'Don't you pour any of that feller
into me!' said the can, 'he'll burn my inside out--an' yours--if you pour
him into me I'll open my mouth where I'm soldered and let him run out,
and you won't be able to drink out of me any more. Chuck him into the
river!--he's no good.'

"'You shut your mouth!' said the old hobo, 'or I'll chuck you into the
river!' And he poured some of the stuff out of the bottle into the can--"

At this exciting point poor George halted for breath and mopped his
forehead. He felt fully as thirsty as the tomato-can. But the children
were upon him, clutching his scarlet tunic:

"What did he do then?" howled Jerry.

"Eh?" gasped the young policeman,--"oh, he opened his mouth where he was
soldered and let the stuff run out. So the old hobo threw him into the
river. That's why hoboes always pack a bottle with them now instead of a
tomato-can."