Well, here I am, back in the university library. I s'pose anyone out there reading this is wondering what happened to old Josh after I skedaddled from the city. Well, like I said, we hopped a turnstile onto the railway (of course it didn't go quite so smoothly for Barnaby and his fat old caboose) and rode the rails to til the conductor kicked us off at Jamaica, Queens. That night Barnaby and I found a nice warm dumpster to kip in. Next morning I wakes up to something rustling through the garbage next to me. I went for my bowie thinking it might be a nice meaty rat or possum. I pulled my felt hat off me eyes and was staring at the face of a Mexican. Reminded me of one of the men I bayonetted back at the Alamo. Easy Josh, I said to myself, this ain't Texas. "What's your business," I growled. "Pardon me, senor," he said, "I need worms to go fishing. This dumpster crawls with them." At this point Barnaby woke up and started rubbing his peepers. "What's all this then?" "Nothin', this feller here's just rooting for worms to go fishing." Well Barnaby sure took to the whole fishing idea and asked our friend from south of the border if he didn't mind if we poked along with him. He said he didn't mind in the slightest. We shook hands and introduced ourselves like gentlemen. He told us his name was Paco. So we got ready to saddle up, picked a few worms off our persons and tossed em in a coffee can before making for the nearest subway station. I'm bored as hell but I'll finish the story next time I make it out to the University. If you see me on the street, say hello and toss an old man some coin. Otherwise stay the fuck out of my face. Til next time strangers.