5 A.M.
While he drove to the garage he pondered : `` Is it worth twenty-five plunks to me to be able to beat it to-night instead of waiting four days till pay-day ? Nope . I 'm a poor man . '' But at 5 A.M. he was hanging about the railroad-yards at Hammond , recalling the lessons of youth in `` flipping trains '' ; and at seven he was standing on the bumpers between two freight-cars , clinging to the brake-rod , looking out to the open meadows of Indiana , laughing to see farm-houses ringed with apple-blossoms and sweet with April morning . The cinders stormed by him . As he swung with the cars , on curves , he saw the treacherous wheels grinding beneath him . But to the chuck-a-chuck , chuck-a-chuck , chuck-a-chuck of the trucks he hummed , `` Never turn back , never tur ' back , never tur ' back . ''