“It’s great. How long have you been doing it?”

“Oh, a couple of years. Ever since the coppers run me out of my hometown, Detroit. That was a snide little caper we cut back there and I wouldn’t have touched it only you had to have a coat. How would you like to be a prowler, kid?”

I liked him, always smiling, for his ready help when I needed it and his companionable ways.

“I think I would like it; it’s exciting.”

“All right, kid. When we get to Salt Lake I’ll show you the real thing.”

“Good,” I said. “How long will it take us to make Salt Lake?”

“About a week at this rate.”

“Let’s ride the passenger trains,” I said, anxious to take my first lessons in burglary.