Rushing to the door and looking out I was horrified to see the man who had lately left me lying helpless, stretched upon the ground. No doubt, in jumping he had miscalculated the position of the rod under the door, and as a result of the misstep, had been thrown from the car with considerable force. Being unusually intelligent, and of a quiet kind of disposition, I had taken quite a fancy to the fellow by this time, and it was with a sigh of genuine relief I noted he had not been run over. Struggling to his feet with one hand pressed against his head, he waved to me for a moment and then slowly staggered off the pathway of the track. The man who had claimed to be an "expert" was left, and I was soon miles away, but such is life. Going back into the car, and being exhausted from hunger, I soon fell asleep. My last conscious thought was a desire to wake up in Savannah, Ga. Two hours later it would be time to change trains at Charleston Junction for Savannah, but being blissfully ignorant of this fact, my slumbers were undisturbed. I slept long and sound--then with a start awoke. The car was no longer moving. I listened intently for a brakeman, but the grave-like silence was unbroken. Darkness had long since settled down. Now fully awake and being of a logical turn of mind, I began to speculate. Evidently, we had run into Savannah late at night and were now in the train yards. Noiselessly I tiptoed to the door--imitating my late companion--and with great caution poked my head out. [Illustration: "Surely my hunger must be causing some horrible nightmare--"] The moon was just rising from behind a distant cloud-bank. Surely my hunger must be causing some horrible nightmare, and directly in front of me was a large cabbage patch--the largest I had ever seen, in fact. Countless thousands of cabbage were growing on every hand, and as far as the eye could reach large nice ones they were, too, some of them growing so close to the railroad track as to be almost under my feet. I had eaten but once since my arrival in Wilmington Saturday night from Southport, and it was now Monday night. I ceased to remember I was trying to reach Savannah, nor did I speculate long as to the reality of the vision before me. Springing from the car door into the patch, I sat down before one of the largest of the vegetables and had eaten nearly half of it when I heard some one approaching. With a guilty start I sprang to the railroad track. Now would be a good time to locate my position. The man soon came up. "Hello! my friend, how far is it to Savannah?" I asked. "About 150 miles, sir," said the man looking at me curiously. The truth dawned upon me instantly, while sleeping I had been switched off on the wrong road. The man started down the track. "Say, hold on there a minute!" I cried. "How far is it to Charleston Junction?" "Forty-seven miles," replied the man. "Well, how far is it to the next town, then?"