On Track for Treasure Read Online Free PDF

and see where the day takes us,” Ned Handsome explained.
    â€œAre we hoboes now?” Harold asked.
    Ned grinned. “Well, you ain’t got a home and you’re riding the rails, and you already said you ain’t gypsy children, so the way I sees it, you’re hoboes. Honorary hoboes, at least.”
    â€œBut Ned,” called out Fingy Jim, “they don’t got their road names yet.”
    â€œRoad names?” Frances asked.
    â€œWhen you’re traveling, you’re not quite the same person as you are when you’re not,” Ned answered. “So you go by a road name. And you can’t pick it—it’s given to you on the road. But I can give ’em to you now, if you want. Who’s first?”
    â€œMe!” George waved his hand.
    â€œHmm . . .” Ned Handsome looked at him thoughtfully. “You’ve got spectacles, so we’ll call you Glims, ’cause that’s what some folks call ’em.” George seemed to like that.
    Next Ned turned to Nicky. “Skillet,” he declared. “’Cause you’re a little skinny and need to be reminded to eat breakfast.”
    â€œSure thing,” said Nicky.
    Sarah shook her head. “I don’t see the point of a road name,” she protested, “if you’re just going to give it up when you get settled somewhere.”
    Frances sighed.
That was just like Sarah to say that
, she thought, though she noticed Anka nodding a little, too.
    â€œFair ’nough, if that’s how you feel,” Ned replied. “How about the rest of you? If you want your road name, say ‘aye.’”
    Everyone else said
aye
, even Anka. Sarah shrugged and played with one of her braids.
    Ned was able to think up names as soon as he looked hard at someone. Jack was Swindler Jack, and Lorenzo was dubbed Enzo the Tall. Alexander became Pennsylvania Kid, Anka was Petunia, and Harold was Little Tomato Can.
    Frances wasn’t sure she liked her road name.
“Gizzard?”
    â€œIt’s ’cause you got grit,” said Ned.
    Frances couldn’t resist grinning then.
    â€œDon’t forget me!” Quentin cried. “Don’t I get a road name?”
    Ned looked at him. “You’re Quentin, right? Hmm . . . seems like your name ought to have
tin
in it. How about Tin . . .
Whistle
? Because I bet with that crooked lip of yours, you can really whistle.”
    Quentin stood up and glared at Ned, his hands in fists. Frances thought he might actually slug the hobo. But Ned just smiled, and after a moment, Quentin seemed to relax and he sat back down.
    â€œTin Whistle, huh? I like that,” he said. “Guess it doesn’t matter if my face is kind of funny.”
    â€œThat’s right,” Ned replied. “Because all kinds of funny stuff happens in life, and there’s no sense in hiding our misfortunes. Being a hobo’s ’bout learning to recognize that life takes you in certain directions for a reason. Even if you don’t know the reason yet.”
    Frances wasn’t quite buying all this. “So does that mean life isn’t going to take us to California?” she asked. “Since we’re going the wrong way and all.”
    â€œIt may
seem
like the wrong way, Gizzard my friend,” Ned replied. “But if you hop off this train in Kansas City, you can get yourselves on a Santa Fe Express that goes more direct to California than the westbound trains on this line. And faster, too. If California is your destiny, life has a way of making it work. And in this case, it turns out going east a ways was the better way to go.”
    â€œYou don’t say,” said Alexander. “How soon until we get to Kansas City?”
    â€œAin’t more than an hour,” Ned said.
    Alexander turned to Frances and Jack. “This is our chance,” he said. “Right?”
    Jack nodded. “Let’s go for