There was a buzz of talk as the train creaked to a stop and the guards climbed down from the cars. The old man was furious. “Did someone escape from this car?” he screamed, his figure silhouetted menacingly in the open doorway. There was silence. The old man spoke to the guards who stood in the twilight along the tracks, “Guards ride inside the cars,” he called in a fury of frustration. “Fix your bayonets and use them at will. No guard sleeps until we reach Columbia. If another prisoner gets away, you all better start to say your prayers.” The feet of the guards scraped along the gravel. They moved to the doors and hoisted themselves into the cars. A skinny boy and a middle-aged, heavy-set man climbed into Tim’s car and settled themselves against the left-hand door. The old man went down the line and slid all the doors shut. He shouted to the guards, “If you see a crack of light, strike out with your bayonet. If any guard sleeps I’ll have him shot.” As the train moved forward it seemed to Tim that the heat in the car had already risen ten degrees. He leaned toward Red. “Do you think Kautz got away?” “Sure he did. The water was high,” Red said, “and you’d be with him if it wasn’t for me.” “We’ll have our chance,” Tim said. As the train moved through the night the air in the car became unbearable. The middle-aged guard stumbled forward and slid the door half open. “We have to get some air,” he said, “but you all stay clear of the door.” Tim breathed more easily now. The sky was soft and deep, and the stars touched the crests of the rolling hills with a faint, unearthly light. Tall pines were etched against the blue, and occasionally the light of a lamp marked a beckoning square in the dark outline of a house. The train moved through the night, its headlamp sending a feeble light along the rails, its firebox glowing orange, the smoke from the engine streaming behind. In the caboose the old captain laid his pistol on the table and fanned out his playing cards. He frowned at the scar-faced sergeant who sat across from him. In the other cars the prisoners slept and the guards struggled to stay awake. * * * * * When Tim woke, the train had stopped but he could hear the engine’s slow, metallic puffing sounds and the guards talking outside the cars. He couldn’t remember where he was and in a sudden panic he reached out in the dark and put his hand on someone’s arm. He heard Red’s voice. “That you, Tim?” “Yes.” “If they don’t let us out of here, I’m afraid I might be sick.” Tim reached into the pocket of his blouse and brought out a couple of blackstrap molasses cakes. “Eat one of these.” Red took the leathery cake and mumbled thanks. The door of the railroad car slid open. Tim breathed deeply. The old man’s voice rose above the others. “Get out of the cars.”