"Well, good-bye; if there is no other way, we'll have it to swim." We had gone probably a mile down the track and had begun to look out for a place to put in a few hours sleep, when looking back, I was overjoyed to discover a hand-car rapidly overtaking us. Stepping into the middle of the track I signalled the car to stop. "Hello, captain! we want to help you peddle that car across the bridge. Do you go that far?" "Yes, I'm the track inspector, and go as far as Jacksonville," was the reply. "Let us go?" I questioned. "I don't know; I need two more men, but white men, as a rule, are no good peddling these cars on a long run," was the retort. "I'm as strong as either of the two men now propelling you, sir," and, to prove the assertion, I rolled up my sleeve. The man's eyes opened wide in astonishment, for notwithstanding I'm an asthma sufferer, his gaze rested on an arm that had undergone five years of hard physical culture training. "You may go," he said, "and I'm glad to get you." We passed the man with the Winchester rifle safely, and at 3 p. m. I got off in the suburbs of Jacksonville, parting with the darkey, who is the right owner of the reward offered in the front pages of this book, and whom the track inspector had engaged for railroad work at $1.00 per day. It was nearly two miles down town, and being fatigued from my recent exertions, I invested five cents in a street car ride. The car was full of gaily dressed people, white being the prominent color, all of whom seemed bent upon some kind of pleasure, judging from their happy faces. Race prejudice is strong here. Half the car was devoted to the white passengers and the other half to the colored, and is rigidly enforced. The gay costumes on the streets, and the brisk, business-like air of the people, next attracted my attention. Nearly all of the streets are broad and well paved, and some of the business blocks remind one of Baltimore, Md. The whole scene was an entire surprise to me. But what impressed me more than all else was the long line of beautiful palms, extending quite close on either side of the street car line. CHAPTER IV. _"Look Out for Hoodlums"--Retribution for Deception--Stranded in New Orleans--Meet with Kind Hearts._ I left the car at a point near the Clyde Line docks, and shortly after succeeded in finding William Marine--Archie Marine's brother--who informed me that the boats were no longer running between Jacksonville and Gulf points. "There's but one way I could help you, young fellow. If you desire, I'll get you on a boat, as a cook's assistant, that will take you to New York City, from which point you might be able to work your way to San Francisco on an ocean liner." "I thank you, but will risk working my way overland," I replied, and left the wharf.