The Rev. Silkirk did not feel very comfortable under the searching eye of the conductor who lifted his fare, and that individual's refusal to give satisfactory answers to inquiries concerning connections at Rocky Mount increased his feeling of uneasiness. He felt assured that failing to capture him in the woods, his would-be murderers had telegraphed his description, etc., along the road. At Dudley Station two men came into the smoker and took seats immediately in front of him, and continued the discussion of the topic which doubtless absorbed their minds before entering. "I was saying," said one, an elderly man, with quite a refined appearance, "that impertinent article by that Negro preacher was equally as spicy as the editorial, and as the editor took time by the forelock and made good his escape, the determination was to make sure of this preacher. But he was warned in time to get out, and the impression is that he was warned by a white man." "Shame," said the other, slapping his knee vigorously. "He got away, then." "Yes, but it's likely he'll sneak back before taking final leave, as he has a family there, and they are on the lookout for him; besides, the boys have been notified along the road to be on the lookout." "What's his name?" "Silkirk; he is er Boston darkey, an' doubtless is heading for that place, as Southern climate has got too hot for 'im." "Goldsboro! Change cars for Newbern," shouted the porter. "Well, good-bye!" said the genteel man, rising and making a bolt for the door. As the train slowly clanged its way through the old town the remaining passenger settled himself back in the seat and went to sleep. Several men passed through the train, the conductor in the lead. Each man slyly glanced at the minister, but said nothing. The train sped on its way through the town. Now, Wilson is the place where through passengers change cars and board North-bound trains from the far South. Wilson for the past few days had been the rendezvous for a well-organized vigilance committee, who had vied with the ruffians at Goldsboro in offering violence to citizens driven out of Wilmington. The leader of this gang was a young farmer by the name of Bull. That afternoon Mr. Bull and quite a number of his fellow-committeemen sat on the steps of the railroad station whittling sticks when the station operator came up and handed him a telegram, which ran as follows: "Goldsboro--Man on train 78 answering description of Silkirk. Look out for him. Barnet."