Slowly the sun climbed, revealing a sparkling world of snow. There had been a hard frost during the night, and a cold wind blew fine, snowy dust from the trees. A tramp was asleep at the side of the road. He struggled for a moment with the snow that covered him. Then he sat up, surprised.
“What! I thought I was in bed,” he said to himself. “And all the while I was out on the road.”
He stretched his arms and legs, and shook the snow off himself. As he stood, the cold wind made him shiver. “I suppose I’m lucky to wake at all in this. I could have been frozen in my sleep.”
He started walking along the road with his back turned to the hills. Soon he overtook a boy standing on the road. The boy had no overcoat, and he looked unspeakably fragile against the snow.
“If you don’t walk too fast, I’ll come a bit of the way with you,” the boy said. “It’s a bit lonesome walking this time of the day.”
The tramp nodded.
“I turned eighteen last August,” said the boy. “I’ve been on the road six years.”
“I dropped by the roadside last night and slept where I fell,” said the tramp. “It’s a wonder I didn’t die.”
The boy looked at him sharply. “How do you know you didn’t?” replied the boy.
“I don’t understand,” admitted the tramp.
“You haven’t been a tramp as long as I have,” said the boy hoarsely. “People like us belong to the road. We can’t ever escape from it. Even if we die. I’ve been on the road for six years, and do you think I’m not dead?” the boy asked. “I was drowned bathing at Margate, and I was killed by a gypsy with a spike. He knocked my head right in. And twice I froze like you did last night. And I was hit by a car on this very road. And yet
I’m walking along here now because I can’t help it. Dead! I tell you we can’t get away if we want to.”
The boy broke off in a fit of coughing. The tramp paused while he recovered.
“You’d better borrow my coat for a bit, your cough’s pretty bad.”
“You don’t understand at all, do you?” the boy said fiercely. He
collapsed suddenly, and the tramp caught him in his arms. The tramp looked down the road. A car flashed in the distance and came smoothly through the snow.
“I’m a doctor,” said the driver as he pulled up. “What’s the trouble?” He listened to the boy’s strained breathing. “Pneumonia,” he declared. “I’ll give him a lift to the hospital. You, too, if you’d like.”
“I’d rather walk,” said the tramp.
The boy winked faintly as they lifted him into the car. “I’ll see you later,” he said, softly to the tramp.
All morning the tramp splashed through the thawing snow. Then he found a lonely barn in which to fall asleep. It was dark when he woke. He started trudging once again through the slushy roads.
He hadn’t gone far when a frail figure slipped out of the darkness to meet him.
“If you don’t walk too fast, I’ll come a bit of the way with you,” said a familiar voice. “It’s a bit lonesome walking this time of day.”
“But the pneumonia!” cried the tramp.
“I died this morning,” said the boy.
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