Just in the nick of time I reached the brass handles, and swung upon the lower steps of the rear car, as the train once more resumed its journey. The top part of the rear door had been let down--I suppose for ventilation. Every moment, fearing discovery, my eyes were fastened in a steady stare upon the door. I had been crouching upon the steps scarcely five minutes ere a lady passenger peered out into the fast gathering darkness. For the space of a second the head was framed in the open doorway, when, with a quick jerk, it disappeared into the brilliantly lighted car. There was no doubt she had seen me and was very much frightened. "Hey! what the ---- are you doing there?" shouted the conductor a moment later. "Going to Pensacola, if you'll allow me, sir. I'll always appreciate it, Captain, if----" "I'll wire to Caryville and allow you to be arrested if you don't either get down off this train or pay your fare," shouted the conductor. As will be remembered, I was still on the L. & N. Road, and remembering Mr. Hall's caution, decided to pay my fare. Ten minutes later I was riding on a first-class ticket to Pensacola. Out of the $5.00 bill I handed the conductor I received only twenty cents. He had taken out the full fare from Chipley, charging me for the four miles I had walked. At 10 p. m. the train pulled into the station at Pensacola. "Is there a night freight from here to Mobile?" The question was directed to a young man about my own age, who had just come out of a barber shop. "No, but there's a midnight freight to Flomaton, Ala., which is about half way, I believe. Going to hobo it?" "Yes, I may do so." "Then I'd advise you to be careful in this town, my friend. You're likely to get a job making "little rocks out of big ones." There are twenty-two of 'em at it now, and a night cop at the depot waiting to catch others. Now, the best thing you can do," he continued, "would be to walk from this town to Flomaton, and if you're going on to New Orleans, you'd better walk through all of Southern Mississippi to the State line of Louisiana, for if you're caught 'hoboing' in Mississippi, you'll get eleven months and twenty-nine days in prison. Upon being released you're allowed one day to get out of the town, and upon failing to do so, you're again arrested and thrown into jail for a like term for vagrancy." Upon hearing this I admit that I was considerably frightened; but it would never do to give up in this manner, for the trip was hardly begun yet, and if I had heeded all the advice of this nature I had received since leaving Wilmington, the probabilities are I would not yet have reached Jacksonville. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained," and I decided to either leave Pensacola on the next train or get thrown into jail for the attempt. Accordingly I started for the depot at which I had recently been landed as a first-class passenger, and reached it just as the Flomaton freight was pulling out.