Chicago was the only place open for him, and to Chicago he must go as fast as horse and steam could get him there.

While he was thinking of all these things his horse was plunging through the dark over the plain, skirting the timber, dashing through streams of water without staying his speed, and at last the ring of its hoofs striking the steel rail, and the crunching of the gravel informed Jim that he was crossing a railroad track.

He pulled in his panting steed, and, far on the horizon, he saw the approaching head-light of an engine.

In the hurry and confusion incident to his escape, the outlaw had lost his bearings, but knew that this must be the M., T. & K. R. R., and shining over the head-light he saw the Great Dipper circling in the heavens.

The train was, then, a south-bound train, either passenger or freight.  Looking south along the track, he spied a small light twinkling through the night; and now, having recovered his reckoning, he surmised it was the water-tank some miles below Blue Jacket.

He must reach that before the train arrived.  Putting spurs to his horse, he flew down the track, the gravel flying in all directions, his sure-footed animal keeping the ties, nor did he pull rein or slack his speed until the large tank of the water station rose above him.  Jumping from his horse, he walked to the keeper’s shanty.  The man was awake and trimming his lantern, nor did he exhibit any surprise at the advent of his belated visitor.

“What train is this coming?” asked Jim.

“Galveston express,” answered the man.

“Does she take water here?”

“Every time.”

“By Jove, that’s lucky.  I was on my way to Blue Jacket to catch it and got turned around.”

“Where’s your horse?”

“Out near the tank.  I will be back in five days and if you will take care of it I will make it all right for you.”

“That’s O K. I often do that for the boys; but here’s your train.”

The long train of cars drew up and came to a standstill as Jim left the shanty.  Climbing aboard the smoker he found a seat and was soon on the way to Galveston Arriving there he took a gulf steamer to New Orleans, where he boarded an Illinois Central train and came to Chicago, where he arrived a week after his escape from the detectives.

Late in the evening of the day on which he arrived he boarded a West Lake street car and jumping off at—­Lake street, knocked at the door of a small frame building over which was the sign “F.  Wittrock and Co., Hard and Soft Coal.”

No lights were visible and for some time no answer came.  Finally the noise of shuffling feet were heard and a clear voice inquired: 

“Who’s there?”

“It is I, be not afraid,” answered Cummings.

“Thunder and lightning, it’s Fred,” exclaimed the voice in accents of great astonishment.

“Well, why the devil don’t you let me in, then?” asked Cummings, his mouth close to the keyhole.