s merely custom. Every man who hadn't run was
grabbing. The doors crashed open and swung in, and through them surged
a squad of bulls. We surged the other way. It was dark in the office,
and the narrow door would not permit all of us to pass out to the
street at the same time. Things became congested. A coon took a dive
through the window, taking the sash along with him and followed by
other coons. At our rear, the bulls were nailing prisoners. A big coon
and myself made a dash at the door at the same time. He was bigger
than I, and he pivoted me and got through first. The next instant a
club swatted him on the head and he went down like a steer. Another
squad of bulls was waiting outside for us. They knew they couldn't
stop the rush with their hands, and so they were swinging their clubs.
I stumbled over the fallen coon who had pivoted me, ducked a swat from
a club, dived between a bull's legs, and was free. And then how I ran!
There was a lean mulatto just in front of me, and I took his pace. He
knew the town better than I did, and I knew that in the way he ran lay
safety. But he, on the other hand, took me for a pursuing bull. He
never looked around. He just ran. My wind was good, and I hung on to
his pace and nearly killed him. In the end he stumbled weakly, went
down on his knees, and surrendered to me. And when he discovered I
wasn't a bull, all that saved me was that he didn't have any wind left
in him.

That was why I left Washington--not on account of the mulatto, but on
account of the bulls. I went down to the depot and caught the first
blind out on a Pennsylvania Railroad express. After the train got good
and under way and I noted the speed she was making, a misgiving smote
me. This was a four-track railroad, and the engines took water on the
fly. Hoboes had long since warned me never to ride the first blind on
trains where the engines took water on the fly. And now let me
explain. Between the tracks are shallow metal troughs. As the engine,
at full speed, passes above, a sort of chute drops down into the
trough. The result is that all the water in the trough rushes up the
chute and fills the tender.

Somewhere along between Washington and Baltimore, as I sat on the
platform of the blind, a fine spray began to fill the air. It did no
harm. Ah, ha, thought I; it's all a bluff, this taking water on the
fly being bad for the bo on the first blind. What does this little
spray amount to? Then I began to marvel a