Southern Alabama and Mississippi are full of these detectives; and seldom it is that a man gets through without a scratch.
Sometime between 11 and 12 o'clock that day we ran into the suburbs of Mobile.
Darting from the closed doorway, in which I had been standing, to the car platform, I cautiously peeped out.
Several men standing on the sidewalk near a large factory saw me, and motioned violently with their hands for me to jump off, but the train was running too fast for that, and with a feeling of indescribable fear, I quickly sprang back and jammed myself tightly against the closed door—careful even to turn my feet sideways, with my face pressed flat against the door. All hopes of safely alighting in the suburbs was given out. The houses were fast getting thicker and stores began to flash by.
Presently, to my surprise, the train turned into one of the principal business streets of Mobile. Large mercantile houses towered above me on every side.
The train ran several blocks down this street before stopping at the depot.
A man stepped in front of me to uncouple the engine.
Not daring to move, I whispered:
"Which side is the depot on?"
"Get off on your right, quick!" he whispered, without glancing up.