He promised he would fix it up with the engineer for me, but that I must look out myself for the conductor, as he didn't know him.
"You'd better look out going through Mississippi, though," he said. "The train makes but three regular stops—Scranton, Biloxi and Gulf Port. If you are not sharp you'll get run in at one of those places."
"Don't turn your head!" he suddenly whispered, "there's a detective under the depot looking at you now. We'd better not be seen talking together."
"Good-bye, young fellow, and I hope you may get through safe."
The 4:30 passenger arrived in Mobile on time, and a few moments later pulled out bound on its long journey to New Orleans.
Hidden between two box-cars farther up the road, I waited for the engine to pass.
The train was going at a rapid clip when I sprang out and made a headlong dash for the "blind baggage," which I caught safely.
Either the conductor had not seen me or was waiting for me to get picked up down the road.
The train's speed was increasing every moment, and Mobile was soon left miles behind.