We boarded the freight one mile from the city limits at a slow-down crossing. There was no empty car to get into and the only other place was on the end of a loaded flat-car, where we were shielded somewhat from the cold winds blowing over the train. The rain was coming down in a steady downpour, and had been for two hours or more. We were still standing close together on the end of the car, and had entered Northern Florida, and lying or sitting down in the rain would have been courting death of cold. There was nothing to do but stand up and take our medicine quietly. The cold winds had chilled us to the very marrow. Weak and faint from the loss of food and sleep, and from the high nervous strain I had been subjected to, I was fast becoming insensible. I forgot that I was standing on the end of a wildly rocking flat-car rushing through inky darkness at the rate of forty miles an hour. The danger seemed fading away now, and I imagined I was home again resting in my own comfortable bed. The limit of human endurance had been reached, and poor, exhausted nature gave up the battle. Slowly my eyes closed. "It will be for just one sweet moment, just one," I promised, and the next instant I was fast asleep. Two rough hands reached out and encircled me about the waist just as I was toppling between the swift running cars, and drew me back to safety. "Good God! young feller, don't trifle wid your life like dat," exclaimed the frightened darkey. In a vague way I realized my danger and promised to do better, but I was too sleepy to be much frightened, and inside of a half an hour I had again closed my eyes, promising not to go to sleep, but the promise was broken, and once more I was indebted to the faithful colored man for saving my life. [Illustration: "Good God! young feller, don't trifle wid your life like dat," exclaimed the frightened darky.] It was now breaking day and the train was slackening speed. The next stop was Woodbine, Fla. Here the conductor discovered us and we were put off. It was not long before the stores opened up. There are but two or three stores in Woodbine, though one of them is a very large one. It was in this store we got something to eat. A young lady waited on us, who informed me that Jacksonville was forty-nine miles away. Guessing our intention, she remarked: "You can't walk it, for twelve miles from here is a long trestle, which is patrolled by a man with a Winchester rifle. He is in the employ of the government and it's his duty to see that no one crosses over on foot. Every twelve hours he is relieved by a man who watches the bridge at night." "When is the next freight due?" I asked. "To-morrow morning," was the reply, "it's the same one you just got off." Things were beginning to assume a gloomy aspect. "Is there a ferry?" I asked, brightening up. "There was so little travel the ferry was abandoned over a year ago," replied the young lady.