The aforesaid shoes having been subjected to the process of repair, our hero at first demurred to their liberal dimensions, but learned, partly from the cobbler and partly from experience, that as the _'possum skin_ (which formed the uppers) began to dry, it acquired the hardness and durability of _horn_; and hence, extra space became necessary. The shoes lasted him till the end of his adventures, and are still preserved as a memento of auld lang syne. The following day was passed in the swamp, a wretched, dispiriting, drizzling rain, falling from morn till night, bringing the temperature down to zero. They recommenced their journey at dark despite the weather; preferring to push ahead rather than seek shelter again, with their friends, and so delay their progress. Thus they tramped wearily along, until the small town of Alexander was reached, and by this time their condition had become so desperate, that they knocked at the first cabin they came to. A white woman, in reply to their inquiry, as to which was the road to Millen, said "she did not know." And now, for the first time since their escape from Columbia, a feeling of despair took possession of them. They were cold, hungry, worn out, nearly naked, and shelterless, and such was their misery and despair, that had they not suddenly stumbled upon a large frame building used by negro laborers on the railroad, they would have been recaptured from utter powerlessness to seek concealment, or have fallen by the wayside and died. Here, however, they met with a generous reception, and obtained the information they sought. After exchanging some kind words with these humble people, who heartily sympathized with them, Glazier and his comrade proceeded on their way. Everything went well until they unexpectedly came to the banks of a considerable stream, and, after a careful search, failed to discover any practicable means of crossing it, except by fording. The fact of its being fordable gave rise to an incident with a _moral_, and as the gallant captain relates the story we will quote his own words: "Sitting," he writes, "on a log, and ruminating over our chances, a very selfish piece of strategy suggested itself. Accordingly, I said to Lemon, 'There is no use of both getting wet; we can carry each other over these streams. If you will carry me over this, I will carry you over the next,' I said, 'these streams,' although only one was before us, and the most prominent thought in my mind was that, in all probability, there would be no other.