Presently, the big engine, with its train of passenger cars, pulled into the station and drew up at the water tank. When it stopped, I descended from my perch and walked down the track. I was afraid to board the blind baggage, the space between the mail coach and the coal car, for a number of the train crew were standing around. When the tank had been filled and the engine began to draw away, my heart sank within me, for I thought I had lost an opportunity to ride. As the big engine puffed by, the engineer saw me, a poor little kid away out in the wilderness, standing by the track, and he motioned me to jump aboard. I ran, caught the rod on the side of the mail coach, and swung myself into a seat on the platform, right behind the coal car. It was one hundred miles to Sanford, so the mile posts read, and I was determined to stay aboard. I unbuckled the sweater from my shoulder and threw it up on the coal. Around my neck I wore a big blue kerchief and on approaching a station, I would turn my black felt hat up in the front, perch myself on the coal car in full view, there escaping the observation of any one, for officers at every station would pass me by believing me to be one of the train crew. About five o'clock that afternoon, the big locomotive drew us safely into Sanford. Before pulling fairly into the station I yelled good-by to the engineer and swung lightly to the ground. He looked back and I waved again. Realizing that town folks are not wont to help one in search of food and shelter, I began my march towards the outskirts and into the country. At a farmhouse about two miles out, just as dusk was clothing the world in darkness, I secured shelter for the night. I told the man of the place I was in search of work, so he took me in, with the provision that I should do a few odd jobs the next morning. With a hot steaming supper under my belt, I sought my bed and was soon wrapped in slumber. I did about two hours' work the next morning and then walked back to Sanford, where I secured a place as help boy on one of the fishing boats. We stayed out on the first trip three days, and I was so desperately sea-sick all the time I was of little help to them. The master of the boat was a good old fellow and he paid me for my three days just the same, one dollar and fifty cents, half a dollar a day. With this fortune in my jeans, I felt very prosperous, and strolled down the main street, where I bought half a pound of mixed candies for five cents. As I walked casually along the main street chewing the sweets, a pair of tan shoes for one dollar and twenty-five cents caught my eye. These I purchased and went triumphantly squeaking out into the street.