Continued: There was never more than one man at a time looking for a hand-out at the Moore farm on the daily runs. This seemed to be the procedure amongst the travelers. Farmers in other areas reported the same routine.
The elderly lady continued to work at the stove and decided she would have her visitor chop up a supply of wood.
When the box in the woodshed was full he took an armload and walked to the back porch. After dumping the wood into a container near the back door, he shook the snow from his worn coat, slapped his hat against his leg and entered the country kitchen. He looked to be around 35 years old. His face was craggy and thin, almost to the point of gauntness, with cheeks reddened by too many winter rides in icy boxcars.