"Never mind, Charley, Mr. Douglas; he saw a runaway tractor, and wondered if it where yours." "Yes," Oliver Douglas regretfully admitted. "It was mine..." "See, Floyd!" "Charley, any simpleton should've known it was Mr. Douglas's tractor," Floyd Smoot talked to Charley as if he were talking to a simpleton. "Who else would have his tractor plowing up half the Valley, rather than his own farm." "It wasn't my idea!" Oliver Douglas protested. "What a waste of an opportunity," Mr. Haney shook his head. Yet... , sometimes late at night, in my memory, if I listen closely, I can still hear my dad's soft voice, singing sweet and low, floating languidly, out of that old back bedroom.One of the songs he often used to sing to my siblings and me, which we always loved, was entitled, "Hobo Bill's Last Ride." It was a song about the tragic life of a Hobo named Bill. That song, became my inspiration for this story about another Hobo. The Hobo, the other Railroad Bums used to affectionately call ... Hobo. More

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