I Am a Fugitive from a Georgia Chain Gang!

XXVII. A Fugitive in his Native Land

C H A P T E R X X V I I A Fugitive in hisNative Land AM STILL a fugitive! Many people no doubt wonder what were my feelings as I put aside the prison garb, I hope forever, and again began to take up civilized life. How have I kept my identity a secret and why must I keep it a secret? Here is what actually happened! And in this account I am going to give the simple facts and even the names of the places where I have been. My destination on that bus was Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania ! Before making my escape from Georgia I had figured out one way by which I could conceal my identity. John Pashley, a buddy of mine in the gang, was exactly my height, build and complexion. He had a card from the merchant marine certifying him as a first-class seaman and giving the particulars as to his personality. These particulars fitted me also. When his time was nearly up and he was about to leave the gang he showed me this card and, as one last favor, I begged him for it. He gave it to me, and with this card in my pocket I considered myself fairly safe, for if someone suspected me of being Robert Burns, the famous four-dollar bandit, I could show him the card and passas my convict friend, John Pashley. I 238 I Am A Fugitive 239 I arrived safely in Pittsburgh without incident, and there boarded a bus for Newark, New Jersey! I was making my way to the state of New Jersey for one and only one reason. My brother is a minister there, and intimately connected with many powerful friends in the state. He had previously told me that if I ever escaped again I was to come to him and he would help me. And let me say this right here. My mother and my brother have been my staunch friends and supporters through all the misfortunes that have befallen me during ;the last thirteen years since the war. I alternately read the newspaper and dozed as the bus made its course through the valleys and across the quiet farm country of Pennsylvania. As I passed through many a quiet hamlet and watched the simple farm people go their way, I thought how little they knew of the world with its pangs and sufferings and sin. The sun set, night came on and in darkness we were finally arriving at our destination. The overland bus was approaching the city of Newark. It was now late at night and in the distance could be seen the myriad lights of the many tall buildings. Men and women who have been riding all day and night in silence are beginning to arouse themselves. The long journey is coming to an end, and conversations between fellow-travelers begin here and there. Some are soon to be among friends and loved ones. Some will soon be at home. Others, perhaps, will only be strangers in a strange land. Some are anticipating joy and happiness. Others only sorrow and gloom, trying to lose their unhappiness in the byways of a great city, running away; 240 I Am A Fugitive from life. Who would imagine that perchance some one in that bus might be running away from the law; that I, an escaped convict, was planning to lose myself in the teeming millions of the great metropolis? "We'll reach the city about 4:30 A. M.," volunteered the man next to me, "Four-thirty on a Sunday morning, so I guess I'll go to a speak-easy for a few beers and wait until the town's awake. Want to come along with me?" "Is there no other place to go?" I asked. "Only speak-easies and all-night restaurants." "Thanks, I'll try a restaurant." An hour later I was sitting in Silver's restaurant, sipping a cup of coffee. Next to me sat a man scanning the Sunday edition of a metropolitan newspaper. He was having a bite before retiring late from an early party. "Pardon me," I asked, addressingthe late reveller, "can you tell me how to go to ?" "Sure" (and he gave me complete directions). "By the way," he continued, "I see that Chicago editor escaped from the chain gang again. I'm glad to seehim get away. They...