Secret Signs by Shelley Hrdlitschka Read Free Book Online

real money and see the whole wide world.
    Henry and the old tramp continued down the long road, their shoes kicking up puffs of powder-fine dust.
    â€œAre you sure this is the way to Regina?” Henry asked after they had been walking several hours.
    â€œAll roads lead to Rome,” Clickety Clack said cryptically. “In these parts, you end up in Regina whether you want to or not. It’s the capital, you know.”
    Henry shot him a dark look. “I’m not dumb.”
    â€œThen stop acting like it. I know where we’re going. That’s what you hired me for.” The old hobo stuck a chaw in his mouth and ambled on.
    They continued their trek, the searing heat from the sun beating down mercilessly on their heads. For the hundredth time, Henry wiped his brow and wished he had a hat.
    As evening drew in, Clickety Clack appeared to be searching for something.“Keep your eyes peeled for a tall gate with a carving of a wooden fish for a latch. My memory ain’t what it used to be, but I’d swear the Fergusons’ spread is right along this road.”
    Henry was tired and hungry but did as he was told. Then he spotted it. “Over there, in the trees.”
    Clickety Clack spat out a gob of juice. “That’s the ticket, boy. This is where we’ll bunk for the night.” He started walking toward the gate, then stopped and rubbed the dust off the side of a stump near the fence. “You can add this to your dictionary of secret signs if you don’t already have it.”
    Henry leaned over and saw a drawing that was a curved line like a smile with two small circles above it. “What’s it mean?”
    â€œIt means we won’t wake up with dew on our faces.” Clickety Clack chuckled. “It’s safe to sleep in the barn! We’ll be resting on a bed of soft hay tonight, boy.”
    They made their way to the old barn, and when they went inside, sure enough,there was a bucket of fresh water on a table and, beside it, a box of beef jerky and biscuits.
    â€œHow did these folks know we were coming?” Henry hungrily bit off a piece of the jerky.
    â€œOh, they didn’t. All of us on the road know the Fergusons’ place. These kind folks leave provisions in case a couple of travelers drop by for the night. They’re mighty nice. They’ve got a boy, Johnny, about your age. He’s a good lad.”
    While they were eating the delicious food, Henry scratched the newest sign into his journal. “This is a good one to know. It’s nice in here.” He looked around approvingly at the snug barn.
    Clickety Clack harrumphed, then reached over and took Henry’s journal and pencil from him. He quickly sketched another of the signs and wrote something beside it, then handed it back to Henry. “This is an important one to know.”
    Henry read the words beside the symbol, two sets of circles arranged over eachother. “Generous people.” He smiled at Clickety Clack as he bit into his fourth biscuit. “I can’t argue with that.”
    Although he was tired, sleep eluded Henry that night and he tossed and turned for a long time. Finally he propped himself up on one elbow. “Pssst! Are you asleep, Clickety Clack?”
    â€œI was until a second ago,” the old hobo growled.
    â€œYou must have been riding the rods for quite a spell,” said Henry.
    Clickety Clack sighed. “Since I was about your age, and that was a long time ago.” His voice sounded sad and Henry wondered why. This life was full of excitement and strange new places. He loved it.
    Clickety Clack put his arms behind his head. “It was a cold spring when my ma died. My pa had lit out years before, and her death left me alone. An old gent passing through helped me bury my mother. Then, since there was nothing to hold me, I left with him. That was thestart of my life on the road. I’ve been from one side of this country to the