A cop chasing me dangerously close had awakened me. The bed seemed moving and the whole room whirling around. As soon as my eyes became accustomed to objects in the room and I saw that I was really safe from harm, I again tried to go to sleep, but it was no use, for the bed now seemed literally flying through space, and though lying in the middle, it seemed all I could do to maintain my position. In disgust I arose and dressed. The train for New Orleans would leave at 4:30, and I yet had over an hour to reach the depot. The man who uncoupled the engine of the Flomaton passenger that morning showed up just before train time. I told him I intended trying to beat the train to New Orleans. He promised he would fix it up with the engineer for me, but that I must look out myself for the conductor, as he didn't know him. "You'd better look out going through Mississippi, though," he said. "The train makes but three regular stops--Scranton, Biloxi and Gulf Port. If you are not sharp you'll get run in at one of those places." "Don't turn your head!" he suddenly whispered, "there's a detective under the depot looking at you now. We'd better not be seen talking together." "Good-bye, young fellow, and I hope you may get through safe." The 4:30 passenger arrived in Mobile on time, and a few moments later pulled out bound on its long journey to New Orleans. Hidden between two box-cars farther up the road, I waited for the engine to pass. The train was going at a rapid clip when I sprang out and made a headlong dash for the "blind baggage," which I caught safely. Either the conductor had not seen me or was waiting for me to get picked up down the road. The train's speed was increasing every moment, and Mobile was soon left miles behind. Sunday evening just before dark we pulled into Scranton, Miss. A great throng of people, including a good many beautiful young girls, had turned out to see the train. Their voices told me which side the depot was on. No sooner had the train stopped than I was upon the ground on the opposite side. I heard someone running towards the engine on the other side of the track. Trembling with fear for a moment I stood still. Another train filled to overflowing with passengers and headed towards Mobile had side-tracked for the New Orleans train. Jumping aboard the Mobile train, I mingled with the passengers. In a few moments, by looking through the car window, I noted with satisfaction that the New Orleans train was again on the move. One, two, three car lengths passed. With a single bound I sprang from the Mobile train, and a never-to-be-forgotten race for the "blind baggage" ensued. I soon passed from between the two trains, and now it was an open track race. As I passed the last coach of the Mobile train two forms loomed up on the side-track. "There he is! He is the fellow!" cried one of the men.