Secret Signs by Shelley Hrdlitschka Read Free Book Online Page A

other more times than I can count.”
    â€œDo you ever get lonely?” Henry asked.
    â€œI’ve spent a month moseying around the Yukon, where I hardly saw a soul, and never felt lonely. I’ve also been in jam-packed cities and discovered that sometimes the loneliest place in the world is smack in the middle of a crowd. City folks bump into an old hobo like me on the street and pretend they don’t see me. At least out here, everyone’s in the same boat and we try to help each other as best we can.”
    Henry thought about life on the road. He had to admit it was a tiny bit lonely, but it was still better than being on a fishing boat. “How did you get the name Clickety Clack?” he asked.
    The tramp laughed heartily. “Why, on the road, everyone’s got a special name, boy. Usually other fellas give it to you because of something different about you or a special talent you have. I was fourteenwhen I got christened Clickety Clack. I was hopping a freight out of Vancouver, and that old steam engine was picking up speed. I caught sight of three big railway bulls hot on my heels and knew if I missed that train I was in trouble. By golly, I took two steps, jumped for my life and bingo! I was into that boxcar just like that.” He snapped his grimy fingers. “The other guys in the car said I went from standing still to landing in that car in the time it takes the big engine wheels to go around once—clickety-clack. The name stuck.”
    â€œI wish I had a special name.” Henry put his arms behind his head too. “
Henry
sounds so boring. What kind of a name is that for a knight of the road?”
    â€œOh, I have exactly the right name for you, boy.” Clickety Clack chuckled. “
Henry
is what your mama called you, but out here it would be shortened to Hank. I believe I’ll call you High-handed Hank because of the way you’re always bossing people around and acting like the rest ofthe world isn’t worth wasting one minute of your time on.”
    Henry sat up excitedly. “You mean it? I’ve got my own hobo name! It’s like a hobo sign. Only adventurous fellas like us understand what it means.
High-handed Hank
.” He rolled the name around in his mouth to see how it tasted. It was wonderful!
    He should write Anne and tell her about his official hobo name, but he was too tired. He’d draw the new signs and include them in his letter the very next day, he promised himself.
    This was not how he’d imagined today would go, but the smile on his face didn’t fade as he drifted off to sleep.

C HAPTER 10

    The next morning, dawn was still stretching pale pink fingers into the eastern sky when they roused themselves from their sweetly scented beds. Before they left the barn, Clickety Clack reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a scrap of paper and the stub of a pencil.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” Henry asked.
    â€œBasic courtesy, boy.” Clickety Clack licked the end of the pencil and hastily scribbled a thank-you note. When he’d finished, he placed the paper beside the box where the biscuits had been.
    Henry looked at the note, then rummaged in his book bag. He pulled out a smallblue ball and placed it on the note. “It’s my never-miss metal marble shooter. I thought Johnny might like it.”
    Clickety Clack patted him on the shoulder. “Now you’re getting the hang of this, Hank.”
    Henry felt good as they headed out into the rosy morning light.
    Several hot hours later they came to a fence with scrub pasture on the other side. Clickety Clack surveyed the barbed wire with disgust. “We have to cross this field. Stand on the bottom strand and pull up the top one, will you, Hank? I don’t bend like I used to.”
    Henry did as he was told, and the hobo ducked through the fence. Clickety Clack adjusted his old turkey and began striding across the sparse pasture.
    Henry pushed