son, and after that
I get out on bail. It's no use. In Korea I used to be arrested about
every other day. It was the same thing in Manchuria. The last time I
was in Japan I broke into jail under the pretext of being a Russian
spy. It wasn't my pretext, but it got me into jail just the same.
There is no hope for me. I am fated to do the Prisoner-of-Chillon
stunt yet. This is prophecy.

I once hypnotized a bull on Boston Common. It was past midnight and he
had me dead to rights; but before I got done with him he had ponied up
a silver quarter and given me the address of an all-night restaurant.
Then there was a bull in Bristol, New Jersey, who caught me and let me
go, and heaven knows he had provocation enough to put me in jail. I
hit him the hardest I'll wager he was ever hit in his life. It
happened this way. About midnight I nailed a freight out of
Philadelphia. The shacks ditched me. She was pulling out slowly
through the maze of tracks and switches of the freight-yards. I nailed
her again, and again I was ditched. You see, I had to nail her
"outside," for she was a through freight with every door locked and
sealed.

The second time I was ditched the shack gave me a lecture. He told me
I was risking my life, that it was a fast freight and that she went
some. I told him I was used to going some myself, but it was no go. He
said he wouldn't permit me to commit suicide, and I hit the grit. But
I nailed her a third time, getting in between on the bumpers. They
were the most meagre bumpers I had ever seen--I do not refer to the
real bumpers, the iron bumpers that are connected by the
coupling-link and that pound and grind on each other; what I refer to
are the beams, like huge cleats, that cross the ends of freight cars
just above the bumpers. When one rides the bumpers, he stands on these
cleats, one foot on each, the bumpers between his feet and just
beneath.

But the beams or cleats I found myself on were not the broad, generous
ones that at that time were usually on box-cars. On the contrary, they
were very narrow--not more than an inch and a half in breadth. I
couldn't get half of the width of my sole on them. Then there was
nothing to which to hold with my hands. True, there were the ends of
the two box-cars; but those ends were flat, perpendicular surfaces.
There were no grips. I could only press the flats of my palms against
the car-ends for support. But that would have been all right if the
cleats for my feet