e darkness. Not a soul has seen me.

I go over to the fence, at the edge of the right of way, and watch.
Ah, ha! What's that? I see a lantern on top of the train, moving along
from front to rear. They think I haven't come down, and they are
searching the roofs for me. And better than that--on the ground on
each side of the train, moving abreast with the lantern on top, are
two other lanterns. It is a rabbit-drive, and I am the rabbit. When
the shack on top flushes me, the ones on each side will nab me. I roll
a cigarette and watch the procession go by. Once past me, I am safe to
proceed to the front of the train. She pulls out, and I make the front
blind without opposition. But before she is fully under way and just
as I am lighting my cigarette, I am aware that the fireman has climbed
over the coal to the back of the tender and is looking down at me. I
am filled with apprehension. From his position he can mash me to a
jelly with lumps of coal. Instead of which he addresses me, and I note
with relief the admiration in his voice.

"You son-of-a-gun," is what he says.

It is a high compliment, and I thrill as a schoolboy thrills on
receiving a reward of merit.

"Say," I call up to him, "don't you play the hose on me any more."

"All right," he answers, and goes back to his work.

I have made friends with the engine, but the shacks are still looking
for me. At the next stop, the shacks ride out all three blinds, and as
before, I let them go by and deck in the middle of the train. The
crew is on its mettle by now, and the train stops. The shacks are
going to ditch me or know the reason why. Three times the mighty
overland stops for me at that station, and each time I elude the
shacks and make the decks. But it is hopeless, for they have finally
come to an understanding of the situation. I have taught them that
they cannot guard the train from me. They must do something else.

And they do it. When the train stops that last time, they take after
me hot-footed. Ah, I see their game. They are trying to run me down.
At first they herd me back toward the rear of the train. I know my
peril. Once to the rear of the train, it will pull out with me left
behind. I double, and twist, and turn, dodge through my pursuers, and
gain the front of the train. One shack still hangs on after me. All
right, I'll give him the run of his life, for my wind is good. I run
straight ahead along the track. It doesn't matter. If he chases me ten