"I suppose they're going to take this empty away," I said.
"Let's get out of here," suggested Richardson.
"No, stay in and see where they take us. We may get a free ride to some place."
We were banged back and forth on switches for nearly an hour. There was no chance to sleep. We sat up and smoked. At last the engine whistled and we started for some place: we didn't know or care where it was. With the even motion of going in one direction we were able to sleep. I never slept more comfortably in an American Pullman, when I knew my destination, than I did in that empty Indian freight car bound for I didn't know where.
When we awoke the old box-car was at a stand-still. I opened the door and peered out. We were in a freight yard and appeared to be on a siding. There were trains on both sides of us and I could see nothing but box-cars, flat-cars and engines. We grabbed our bags and in a minute were walking towards one end of our train. We came to the station.
"What are you doing in the yards?" a Britisher in uniform called out.
"Just walked in from Cawnpore," I replied, not knowing how far we had travelled. "That's a pretty good hike, isn't it?" I continued.
"Indeed, it is," said the Englishman. "When did you start?"
"Last night," I answered. "How far is it?"
"One hundred and sixty miles."