A TRAMP'S TRICK: HOW HE REPAID A RANCHER FOR HIS KINDNESS
Los Angeles Times, Nov 18, 1891
Southern California tramps are becoming too rapid for the grangers of this section if one can judge from the manner in which a Burbank farmer was "done up" on Chandler's ranch the other day.
A tramp who had evidently taken every degree in the order put in an appearance at the kitchen door and in plaintive tones asked for something to eat. He was dirty and ragged and his thin face showed that he had not eaten a square meal in many hours.
The farmer and his good family were just setting down to their midday meal and as there was much more than enough for two the poor tramp was given two big plates heaped full of the kind of food that makes healthy people.
For thirty minutes the tramp was so busy with his two plates that he hardly took time to breathe. When he finally finished and was about to be asked to chop some wood he headed the granger pair off by pointing to their vineyard nearby and remarking:
"ln course I've had enough to eat, but I noticed them beautiful grapes down thar as I come by and if you don't object I'd like to go back and eat a few before I do any hard work in the way of chopping wood and such."
The kind-hearted farmer and his wife consented as they had more grapes than they knew what to do with.
Of course the tramp did not return, and nothing more was thought of him until three days later, when a wagon was seen to drive up to the vineyard and a man began loading pumpkins and grapes on the wagon.
The farmer watched him a few minutes from the house when he made up his mind to go down and see what it meant.
The man with the wagon paid no attention to the farmer, and went on with his loading just as if he owned the place.
"See here," yelled the Farmer, "do you know who this place belongs to?"
“No, and l don't care a fig."
"Well, it belongs to me, and you are loading your wagon with my produce without permission."
"Your permission be hanged. I've just bought and paid for these pumpkins and grapes, and I don't know what you have got to do with it."
"I haven't sold you a single grape, and if you don't unload those pumpkins and grapes mighty quick I'll unload you," and the old man peeled his coat and prepared for war.
The man with the wagon saw that something was wrong, and he came down from his high horse and explained that he was on his way home from Los Angeles to Newhall, when a man came out of the vineyard and asked him if he did not want to buy some grapes.
"My name is Johnson and I am a constable at Newhall and when this man offered to sell me some grapes I told him that I wanted a load of pumpkins for my horses, and would take a few grapes. He fixed his price, and we were just loading my wagon when you came up. I thought, of course, that he owned the place, but if he is your hired man and has no right to sell your stuff I will unload and you can give me my money back.”
Just at this moment a man was noticed to jump up from behind a grapevine nearby and start off on a dead run.
"There he goes," said Johnson, and the farmer saw the man who sold his pumpkins and grapes for the first time. One glance at the rapidly retreating figure convinced him that it was none other than the tramp he fed three days before.
"That's a thief," yelled the farmer, ''and we must catch him," and both he and the constable started in hot pursuit. The tramp was fleet of foot, however, and had it not been for a young man at the ranch house who mounted a horse and joined in the chase, the probabilities are that the tramp would have escaped. As it was, he gave them a run of two miles and only surrendered when the constable came up and covered him with a pistol.
He banded over the money and thought he was to be let off, but the constable could not see it in that light, and handcuffing him he was taken on to Newhall and locked up. He will be tried in the Superior Court of this city, and it is more than likely that he will go to jail for several years, as it has transpired that for three days he sold grapes to almost every one that passed the vineyard.