Head South and Keep Going

At a lunch wagon down near the water front, Bud stopped and bought two
"hot dog" sandwiches and a mug of hot coffee boiled with milk in it
and sweetened with three cubes of sugar. "O-oh, boy!" he ejaculated
gleefully when he set his teeth into biscuit and hot hamburger. Leaning
back luxuriously in the big car, he ate and drank until he could eat and
drink no more. Then, with a bag of bananas on the seat beside him, he
drove on down to the mole, searching through the drizzle for the big
gum sign which Foster had named. Just even with the coughing engine of
a waiting through train he saw it, and backed in against the curb,
pointing the car's radiator toward the mainland. He had still half an
hour to wait, and he buttoned on the curtains of the car, since a wind
from across the bay was sending the drizzle slantwise; moreover it
occurred to him that Foster would not object to the concealment while
they were passing through Oakland. Then he listlessly ate a banana while
he waited.

The hoarse siren of a ferryboat bellowed through the murk. Bud started
the engine, throttled it down to his liking, and left it to warm up for
the flight. He ate another banana, thinking lazily that he wished he
owned this car. For the first time in many a day his mind was not filled
and boiling over with his trouble. Marie and all the bitterness she had
come to mean to him receded into the misty background of his mind and
hovered there, an indistinct memory of something painful in his life.