“That night I stopped at another old shack, and had about the same kind of dream I did the night before, only I was runnin’, and every time I pretty near got away a cramp would come in my leg and pull me back and give ‘em a chance to ketch me, and they seemed to come just the same without runnin’ or flyin’, or anything, and always she’d come just where I was. Still I got through the night and a nigger lady gave me somethin’ to eat, and I went on.
“I began to look awful ragged and shabby. My coat was torn and awful old and black where I’d been workin’ in the charcoal pit. I’d changed my shirt, and washed the one I had on in a little stream, but the buttons was gettin’ off and I was tyin’ em up with strings. My pants was all wore out ‘long the bottom, and my shoes pretty near all knocked to pieces. As for my stockin’s—you couldn’t call ‘em stockin’s at all, and I’d made up my mind to get a new pair the next store I come to, but I didn’t like to stop in town.
“Along about noon I got to a little place and, of course, I was lookin’ pretty bad. Some o’ the dogs commenced barkin’ at me as soon as ever I got into town. I stopped at a house to get somethin’ to eat, and a white lady come to the door and told me to go ‘way, that I was a tramp, and that she’d set the dog on me, and I ran as fast as I could. I went down the street and a good many boys follered me, and I began to get scart; so I went through the town as fast as I could, but I see some people was follerin’ after me, and one that rode on a horse. So I took to the fields and made for a clump of trees that I saw off to the right. I run just as fast as ever I could and when I looked back I saw some people was follerin’ me through the field. I went straight to the woods and ran through ‘em, and got pretty badly scratched up, and my clothes tore worse’n they was before. Then I run into a swamp just beyond and two or three men ran ‘round on the other side of the swamp and I knew it was all up, and I might just as well surrender and go back.
“I was so scart I didn’t care much what they done, so when the one in front asked me to surrender or he’d shoot, I come out to where he was, and he put his hand on me kind of rough and said I was under arrest for bein’ a tramp, and to come with him.
“Then he took me back to town with all the men follerin’ and when we got up into the edge of the place ‘most all the boys, black and white, turned in and follered too. They took me to a little buildin’ over on the side of the town, and went down stairs into the cellar and opened an iron door and put me in. There wa’n’t no light except one window which was covered with iron bars, and they locked the door and went away and left me there alone.”
VIII
“I was locked up in the cellar for a long time before anyone came to talk with me. I looked ‘round to see if there was any chance to get out, but I seen it couldn’t be done. I thought it wa’n’t hardly worth while to try. Honestly it seemed a kind of relief to be ketched and know I didn’t have to run any more. I didn’t know why they arrested me, but I s’posed they just thought I’d done something and they’d try to find out what it was, so I thought about what I’d do, and made up my mind I hadn’t better say much.
“After a while some fellers come down to see me and took me up in the office. One of ‘em was the marshal and another was a lawyer or police-judge or somethin’ of that kind. They said they wanted to fill out some sort of a paper about who I was and where I come from and what my business was and who my father and mother was, and what my religion was, and whether I ever drank, or smoked cigarettes, and the color of my hair and eyes, and how much I weighed, and a lot of things like that. So I told ‘em I was from St. Louis, and guessed at the rest of the answers the best I could. Only I told ‘em I never knew who my father and mother was. They wa’n’t satisfied with my answers and fired a lot more questions at me. And then they told me they thought I lied, and they’d put me in the lock-up until mornin’, so they put me back there and give me a plate o’ scraps for supper, and a straw bed to sleep on, and then went away.
“Somehow I slept better that night than I had since I’d run away. I rather thought it was all up and only a question of time when I’d get back here, but I knew where I stood and wa’n’t so scart. I’ve slep’ fine ever since I was here, only the time when the jury was out and when I was waitin’ for the Supreme Court, and some special times like that. As near as I can find out most of ‘em does when they know it’s all off, just like people with a cancer or consumption, or when they’re awful old. They get used to it and sleep just the same unless they have a pain, or somethin’. They don’t lay awake thinkin’ they’re goin’ to die. And after all, I guess if people done that there wouldn’t any of ‘em sleep much. For ‘tain’t very long with anybody, and bein’ sentenced to death ain’t much differ’nt from dyin’ without a sentence. Of course, I s’pose it’s a little shorter and still that ain’t always the case. There’s two fellers that I knew died since I come here; one of ‘em had pneumonia, and the other was a switchman that thought the engine was on the other side-track. John Murphy was his name. Still—I guess my time’s pretty near come now.