The bill was sixty cents, but I had no regrets.
The passenger train bound for Pensacola was due in Chipley just before dark.
Someone told me that I could catch the train at a long trestle about four miles from the town. I set out on foot at a rapid gait for the trestle and reached it slightly in advance of the train.
Having but three or four coaches and running at full speed, the engineer was unable to check the train's flight before running almost midway of the bridge.
Just in the nick of time I reached the brass handles, and swung upon the lower steps of the rear car, as the train once more resumed its journey.
The top part of the rear door had been let down—I suppose for ventilation.
Every moment, fearing discovery, my eyes were fastened in a steady stare upon the door.
I had been crouching upon the steps scarcely five minutes ere a lady passenger peered out into the fast gathering darkness.
For the space of a second the head was framed in the open doorway, when, with a quick jerk, it disappeared into the brilliantly lighted car.
There was no doubt she had seen me and was very much frightened.