"Dat's strange, I'se gwyne dat way myself," muttered the darkey, "let me go too."
"We don't own de roads," shrewdly observed the man named Bill.
"Well, I'll go den," declared the newcomer, and thus they arranged it to suit themselves, and I said nothing, though I mentally concluded to shift them both at the first opportunity.
One at a time we filed across the main street of Chadbourn an hour later, and, undiscovered, made our way to a large pile of railroad ties some two hundred yards from the depot.
The darkies, unconcerned, stretched out full length upon the timber, and their heavy snoring soon denoted that they had passed into the land of dreams, but their lively trombone music quickly became disgusting, forcing me to seek another pile of the timber for rest.
My thoughts drifted back several years to the scores of positions and hundreds of places I had been in, but none ranked so low as this; and again, thoughts of the warm, comfortable home I had left stole over me.
About midnight my reveries were disturbed by the labored puffing of a heavy laden freight train, which had just begun to ascend the long grade outside of Chadbourn.
My companions were awakened and had silently joined me in the darkness. The train had pulled up the grade now and the cars had attained a dangerous speed.
As the engine dashed by, my companions came near knocking me down in their greedy endeavor to secure the handles of the first two cars from the engine.