The darkies, unconcerned, stretched out full length upon the timber, and their heavy snoring soon denoted that they had passed into the land of dreams, but their lively trombone music quickly became disgusting, forcing me to seek another pile of the timber for rest. My thoughts drifted back several years to the scores of positions and hundreds of places I had been in, but none ranked so low as this; and again, thoughts of the warm, comfortable home I had left stole over me. About midnight my reveries were disturbed by the labored puffing of a heavy laden freight train, which had just begun to ascend the long grade outside of Chadbourn. My companions were awakened and had silently joined me in the darkness. The train had pulled up the grade now and the cars had attained a dangerous speed. As the engine dashed by, my companions came near knocking me down in their greedy endeavor to secure the handles of the first two cars from the engine. With the throttle open a car's length is a serious matter to the man on the ground, but I caught the third car safely and climbed aboard. Chadbourn was left like a flash, and a few moments later we went hurling through Grice like a shot out of a gun. The train was a through freight, and we were bound for Florence. Crawling back on my hands and knees through the darkness several car lengths, I found an empty coal car. In this car I would be shielded from most of the cold wind, which was blowing at a terrific rate over the top of the train. Carefully descending to the car and peering over the edge I was surprised to find another passenger, a mild looking mulatto, who, upon finding that I was not a brakeman, as he at first had supposed, became quite sociable. "I'm also bound for Jacksonville," said he, "and we'll go along together." The proposal suited me to a T, as he added that he was an expert at the business, having been over the same road several times before, and knew every move to make to avoid being "nabbed." The other two men now got into the car, at which the mulatto immediately drew off to the opposite end. "Two together is safer," he said, as I joined him. A drizzling rain set in and we were left to ourselves. "What have you got there?" he asked, some hours later, stumbling against my paper bundles. "Medicine and clothes," I retorted. He laughed. "You'll never get to Jacksonville with all that truck," he said. "You'd better get clear of it." So far my baggage had been a source of constant annoyance, and I, therefore, readily agreed to part with it. It had ceased raining now, and the dim light in the east told of the near approach of day. The lights of Florence could be seen faintly gleaming in the distance as we rapidly drew near, and there was no time to lose, so throwing off coat, shoes and hat, I quickly tore open both bundles, and out in a heap rolled shirts, collars, socks, photographs, cough syrup, quick asthma cures--but space forbids naming all the things.