My carefully laid plans crumbled. I wished myself back in the town. I thought of the bill I had given the conductor. I could see the constables with their heads together in the morning “deducing” and “inferring” with the result that they would deduce and infer that their burglar had left on the night train. I could see them arriving at our stalled train sometime in the forenoon and buttonholing the conductor. I could see him pointing his finger at me.

It was suicide to leave the train. Not a hut or habitation within miles and a terrific storm raging. I went over every possibility and finished with a helpless, half-trapped feeling. I went into another coach, and, finding an empty seat, cut a slit in the cushion and planted the roll of money, keeping only the change from the twenty-dollar bill. There was nothing else I could do to protect myself. I tried to sleep in a seat, but couldn’t, so I sat around, apprehensive and nervous, till morning. The storm abated at daylight and an hour later a work train pulled in behind us, prepared to dig us out. I got ready for a shock.