During the night quite a number of the boys, who had fabricated little saws out of case knives and fragments of hoop iron, cut holes through the bottoms of the cars, through which they dropped to the ground and escaped, but were mostly recaptured after several days.

There was no hole cut in our car, and so Andrews and I staid in.
Just at dusk we came to the insignificant village of Florence, the junction of the road leading from Charleston to Cheraw with that running from Wilmington to Kingsville.

It was about one hundred and twenty miles from Charleston, and the same distance from Wilmington.

As our train ran through a cut near the junction a darky stood by the track gazing at us curiously.

When the train had nearly passed him he started to run up the bank.