It was now breaking day and the train was slackening speed. The next stop was Woodbine, Fla.
Here the conductor discovered us and we were put off.
It was not long before the stores opened up. There are but two or three stores in Woodbine, though one of them is a very large one. It was in this store we got something to eat.
A young lady waited on us, who informed me that Jacksonville was forty-nine miles away.
Guessing our intention, she remarked: "You can't walk it, for twelve miles from here is a long trestle, which is patrolled by a man with a Winchester rifle. He is in the employ of the government and it's his duty to see that no one crosses over on foot. Every twelve hours he is relieved by a man who watches the bridge at night."
"When is the next freight due?" I asked.
"To-morrow morning," was the reply, "it's the same one you just got off."
Things were beginning to assume a gloomy aspect.
"Is there a ferry?" I asked, brightening up.
"There was so little travel the ferry was abandoned over a year ago," replied the young lady.