all plingers in the land would give this unsafe "dump," as tramps call
this class of hangout, a wide berth, as this raid sufficiently proved to
them that this slum saloon was not properly "protected."

Up the well-worn stairway they climbed and when they reached the second
floor of the building Kansas Shorty knocked on a door, which was only
opened to them after he had given an account of his identity, and when
they entered the room, that by another open door was connected with an
adjoining second one, Jim, to his complete surprise found himself in the
company of eight grown, burly hoboes of the roughest imaginable type and
almost a school class of road kids.

Kansas Shorty was most cordially welcomed by the men occupying the
rooms, who insisted that he and his road kid should make their home with
them during their stay in Denver, which offer he gladly accepted. Then
he introduced Jim as "Dakota Jim" to the others and made the lad shake
hands with each and everyone of the ragged, filthy and foul-visaged
fellows, who, as Kansas Shorty had told Jim upon the street before he
had found their hiding place, were "proper" tramps and explained to him
that this meant that all of them were recognized amongst their own kind
as worthy members of the fraternity.

After he had shaken hands with the ugly, rum-bloated specimens of
humanity, Jim had a chance to take a look at the two rooms which were to
be his future home, and his thoughts went back to his mother's cleanly
kept section house, for the total of the furniture in these rooms
consisted of some empty soap boxes which served for chairs, a
slime-covered table, a couple of rough wooden benches, a piece of mirror
glass that was upheld by nails driven into the bare walls, a range,
upon which at this moment a dinner was cooking, and two dilapidated