Plunging between two long freights, and walking rapidly, my companion began to scan the car doors.
"In here," he presently whispered, drawing up before an empty car. "This is the Junction train, and will leave in a few minutes."
Afraid of going wrong and being pretty well frightened, I hesitated.
"What Junction? Are you sure this is the right train?" I questioned, fearing the cars might be made up for Atlanta or Columbia.
His reply was to furtively glance up and down the tracks, and the next instant he had vanished through the half open door. Greatly frightened, I followed.
Quickly and silently we closed the door, leaving us in impenetrable darkness.
It was not long before an engine bumped against the cars, and shortly after we pulled out.
The day dawned beautiful and clear, and being warm, we opened the car door to enjoy the sunshine.
We had gone some fifty or sixty miles down the road, perhaps, when the mulatto declared his intention of getting out to buy something to eat.
"You had better stay in here," I called, but the next moment he was gone.