"You have just about fifteen minutes to leave Wilmington on a freight train to-night. The last freight train pulls out at 8:15 to-night, and it is now 8 o'clock."
Luckily what little baggage I owned was with me, and in another moment I was rapidly walking to the place named. I quickly saw this wouldn't do, though, for it was nearly a mile to the depot, and turning into a residence street, I broke into a run.
Panting for breath I reached the railroad yards.
There was no sign of a train pulling out, nor was there one making up, and so far as I could see there was not the slightest evidence of life about the yards, and it began to look like another practical joke had been played on me.
Just across the tracks at this point are a good many small tenement houses, for the most part occupied by colored people, who are employed by the railroad company.
Calling out one of the occupants of these houses, I asked him if the 8:15 freight had gone.
"The schedule's been changed, and there ain't no 8:15 freight," said the darkey. "The last night freight for Florence left about an hour ago."
To reach Jacksonville, I would have to go through Florence, S. C., and Savannah, Ga.
"If you'll go to Hilton Bridge to-morrow evening," said the darkey, "you might be able to catch a passenger train that passes about 3 p. m. on Sundays."