“They stopped right in the middle of the woods, and I made up my mind that this was about as good a place to stay as anywhere, if I could get a job, and I thought it wouldn’t be a bad plan to try where they was sendin’ the machine. It had been so easy for me to get down to Mississippi that I began to think that mebbe my luck had changed, and that the Lord had punished me all he was goin’ to. So I went up to the mill and asked for a job. The foreman told me he’d give me one if I didn’t mind workin’ with niggers. I told him I didn’t care anything ‘bout that, I guessed they was as good as I was. So I started in. My whiskers was beginnin’ to grow out some. You know I always kep’ ‘em shaved off, and now they was comin’ out all over my face, and I made up my mind to let ‘em grow. I went to work loadin’ saw logs onto a little car that took ‘em down into the mill. A great big stout nigger worked with me, and we took long poles and rolled the logs over onto the cars, and then it was rolled down into the mill and another one come up in its place. I found the only chance to board was in the big buildin’ where all the hands lived. I thought this wa’n’t a bad place. Most of the people boardin’ there was niggers, but there was a few white fellers, and I naturally got acquainted with ‘em. “I’d been there a week or two when someone brought a Chicago paper into the house. It was covered with great big headlines and had my picture on the front page. It told all ‘bout some boys findin’ her and about the neighbors hearin’ me call her a damned bitch, and about the kid wakin’ up in the mornin’ and goin’ out in the street to hunt its ma. Then it offered a thousand dollars reward in great big letters. “My whiskers had grown out a good deal and I didn’t look so very much like the picture. Anyhow I don’t think newspaper pictures look much like anybody. Still, of course, I was awful scart at that. My best chum read the piece all over out loud to me after we got through work, and he said it beat all what a place Chicago was; that such things as that was always happenin’ in Chicago; and that Jackson must have been an awful bad man—wouldn’t I hate to meet him out in the woods some place! A man like that would rather kill anybody than eat. I didn’t say much about it, but of course I didn’t contradict him. But I simply couldn’t talk very much myself. He said he wished he could get the one thousand dollars, but no such luck would ever come to him.