one about seeing me. They gave me
their promise, which they faithfully kept.

I then took up my weary march again. It had been walk, walk, since the
preceding night. After leaving my newly-made acquaintances, I struck
off into the chilling fog, hardly knowing which way to turn. I had
learned from these people that my brother and step-father were being
hunted down by Meany and his mob, and I knew I must get away from the
hot-bed of their rendezvous--Merced--as soon as possible before
daylight the next morning.

I proceeded toward Modesto, on the railroad track, and kept up my
weary tramp, tramp, tramp, scarcely able to drag one foot after the
other, until near morning. At about four o'clock I reached a point
about four miles from the Merced river and one or two from the
railroad, and could proceed no farther. Spreading my blanket, a single
one, on the fog-damp earth, I laid down and slept for about an
hour--the first rest and sleep for more than fifty-eight hours, unless
it be the short stop I made while at Merced. But the sleep did me more
harm than good, as the cold chilled me through and through, and left
my limbs so stiff that I could scarcely stand, much less walk. I
managed to drag my weary body back to the railroad, and just as I
reached it I saw a hand-car coming down the track at a rapid rate. It
was going toward the Merced river, to the section-house at that point.
One white man and four or five Chinamen were in the car. Hailing the
man, he stopped. I asked for a ride. He told me to jump on, and I did
so, and sat right among the Chinamen. I told the man that I was
hunting work, but had been taken sick and was scarcely able to travel;
that I was going to Modesto, where I had friends. He said I was
welcome to a ride. I watched him narrowly, and saw that he did not
suspicion anything. I rode as far as the Merced river with him, and as
he was going no farther, I was obliged to get off. He will probably be
surprised to learn that that sick man hunting for a job was Granice,
who at that time was being hunted down for his life, and for whom
there were large imaginary rewards offered for his capture. I would
advise him not to chide himself for his short-sightedness in not
discovering whom I was, and thereby letting the reward slip through
his hands, as I can assure him, had he captured me, he would have
received not one dime for his pains.

Sick, worn out, footsore, not knowing the fate of my poor mother,
brother