Mishaps and Accidents on the Rails

A Shriek Went Up

I stood on the bumper between two cars ... Now and then a languor came over me and my eyes became heavy. I gripped the iron brake-beam until my wrists ached. ... I had been told on the road that by long practice hoboes could sleep while standing on the blind baggage of a mail train. I doubted this, as Bill had told me of a man who had been riding the limited out of Chicago to Cheyenne, with him one bitter night. The man was half drunk, and all Bill's prodding could not keep him awake.

"You better git off at the next stop. She's only twenty miles now. You kin never stand the gaff," said Bill.

"All right, Mate. I'll vamoose at the next stop," the man answered, and his bleared eyes half closed as he spoke.

In a short time, the train lurched quickly at a sharp curve, and a shriek went up like that of an animal in pain. Bill grabbed at the falling body of the man, and nearly fell under the train himself. He caught the tail of the man's coat. It ripped up the back, and in another second its owner had disappeared. Bill held a piece of coat in his hand.

– Jim Tully, "Beggars of Life," 1924