Twenty-Two

            A few days later we finally did stop at a ranch. It was only a few cattle but a couple hundred horses. They gathered wild ones and broke them then drove most of them to market or auction. Some of the fellows there was as wild as the horses and they let us try a couple of the horses that was half or third grown. They caught them and roped them to the fence to hold them so we could get on. When we said ready they let them go and we hit the ground. The horses didn't ever make one full jump. The fellows had more fun watching us and kept yelling "More! More!"

            We stayed there for three days. I got so I could stay on for about four or five umps but I sure was sore and lame each morning. I tried one of the young steers but once was all I wanted of them. I was too young yet and I didn't have the never. I was scared of the big horns they had but we sure had a lot of fun while there.            

            I did get to ride a few of the horses that was already broke to riding. they still were plenty fast for me at that time. I think that's were I started to like to be around horses and bulls and try to ride them later on at home on the farms.

            While we were around Wichita, Kansas we were told of a real big HoBo Jungle in Shawnee, Oklahoma so we were on our way to it. The ride was a couple of days but what a Jungle. It was right on a good river and there must've been three to four hundred HoBos. It was a regular camp with little shacks built out of everything you could think of, like blankets, tins, sticks, roofing paper. There was a great place to swim and wash clothes and the town nearby was fair size, a good place for food. Then Oklahoma City was only something like a couple of hours away by train. A lot of food was brought from there. I didn't do it but I bet it would of taken an hour to walk from one end to the other and everything was left there for the others to use or they came and went. All the old pots, pans, gallon cans for making coffee, even some half plates. When we was finished we washed the things in the river and moved on. There was some swing beds hung between trees made of two ropes or wire with sticks cross ways. Where ever there was an empty bed or shack that is the one you grabbed. Weather was nice and warm and something different. It sure was a lot of fun.

            At night when anyone was at one end and looked down across everyone I couldn't see the other end. it looked like one big Main Street in a big city only it was about four times as wide as any street today. All you could see was about one hundred little campfires lighting the whole place up and a crowd of people, some sitting, some standing, some walking around. Then there was a few loners off by themselves, sitting or standing by some lone tree. The ones that were sleeping was out of sight. They crawled off out of the light in the woods.  

            I often wondered what would happen if someone with a drum started running and yelling down through the woods in the dark. I could just see him stumbling over fellows and seeing others jumping up and going in all directions, knocking themselves out from running into trees. I had one fellow tell me while we were eating out of cans to never through the cans away off into the dark because I'd be sure to hit somebody sleeping, just set it down and forget about it.

            Then above it all there was a few that had their guitars. Once in a while a couple of them got together to play and sing but most of them would be scattered all over the place just about right so if you listened it seemed like faint music and soft singing was filling the air from all directions.

            It was impossible to see very far as a lot of the fire was getting low. Some was out. After a few hours, around one-thirty to three in the morning it began to quiet down as one by one gave it up. It took about an hour to slowly fade away and it seemed just like the woods went to sleep.

            I used to think of it just like one big home coming. Everyone laughing, talking, telling of placed they had been, what they done, where they were headed and I always knew where to find the next good HoBo Jungle. It seemed just like a few hundred friends got together, had a night on the town and still, never knew a single one by name.

            I sometimes wonder, fifty-three years later, when I see or pass some of the older fellows on the street or in Malls if we ever met or traveled together. Maybe gave one or the other a piece of bread or passed on or the other half a can of beans to share. Even ended up in a HoBo Jungle with a few vegetables, got together, threw them in an old tin can over a fire and made a gallon of stew or soup. Maybe he's one of those helping to send the sound of music and singing through the woods on one of them nights. He could of been the detective that put me in jail the first night I was caught riding the trains. Sometimes I'll be walking near some older fellow my age and wonder if he's the one that showed me or gave me some good tips on how to ride the trains in the beginning.