Being thinly dressed and facing the damp night winds at a fifty-mile an hour rate is certainly not an enviable position. In a short time my body was so benumbed with cold I could scarcely move. Another thing, it would soon break day, and unless I could hide myself better, a discovery would follow and I would be put off. There's an old saying, which I afterwards learned: "To hobo the roads successfully, one has to give up all thought of life or death." That continued hardship lessens a man's fears of death, I have certainly learned by personal experience. With slow deliberation, I worked my way under the boiler of the engine, and among the machinery. At last I was stretched out full length under the boiler, with only one foot sticking out, which I must risk being seen. The boiler was rather warm, of course, and every moment I stayed under it it was becoming warmer. Perspiration started out in huge drops. In running from the extreme of cold I had met the extreme of heat. Only a few moments sufficed to thaw me out and then a warm, hot time began in earnest. My clothes, pressed almost against the boiler, would become so hot every few minutes I was forced to turn over upon my side and ride for a while; only to revert to the original position and torture again. Things were getting unbearable. I had heard of hobos riding under the cow-catcher. Yes, I would risk it! The train came to a standstill. The delay would hardly be a long one, for it was only a cross-roads station. I would have to work with lightning-like rapidity. About midway the boiler was an opening in the machinery, barely large enough to admit the passage of a man. Squeezing through this opening, I dropped upon the cross-ties under the engine. On all-fours I made my way along the track to the front axle of the engine, which I passed under. I had now reached the cow-catcher, but my trouble had been for naught. For some unexplainable reason the space under the cow-catcher had been nailed full of cross-beams, thus effectually barring further progress. Now, fully realizing the danger of my position, a sudden fear assailed me, and I began trembling from head to foot. It had required scarcely thirty seconds to make the discovery, and within the same minute I had turned and was again squeezing under the terrible looking axle. Clang! clang! sounded the engine bell. Considerably bruised about the hands and knees, I reached the opening just as the engine pushed off. Securing a firm grip upon a piece of machinery above the opening, and taking a step forward with the slowly moving engine, I drew myself up to safety. About 8 a. m. we reached Chipley, Fla. Here the station agent saw me, and I was pulled down. I was greasy and black, and my clothes were torn, but no limbs were missing. The conductor, agent and others came hurrying to the engine to see the man who had dared hobo under the boiler.