Baxter got on the train at 5 o'clock. An hour later, at 6, he was asleep in the warm train compartment. Coke was still in his hiding-place in a field, 100 miles away. The winter evening got darker and colder. The wind cut through Coke's thin uniform like a knife. Coke was hungry and tired, and his arms and legs were so cold that he could hardly feel them. He knew he had to find food, warm clothing, and a warm place somewhere. "I have to make a move! I can't just stay in this field and die of the cold!" he thought. Coke got up and began to walk. "Where am I? Which direction am I walking in? Am I going back towards the prison?" he asked himself. A few minutes later, the moon came out and Coke could see better. He stopped and looked around. Suddenly he saw a small light not far away. "What can it be? It can't be a car. It isn't moving! It must be a house!" he said to himself and began to walk towards it. The light got larger. It was a house! He could see the form of the roof in the darkness. Ten minutes later he was outside the house. He stopped and listened. "Strange!" he thought. "I can't hear anything, not even a radio or a television, but there must be someone in there! There's a light on!" Just at that moment, a thought struck him. "This is probably the only house around for miles! The police know I'm probably around here somewhere; and if they're anywhere, they're in that house, waiting for me!" Coke did not move. The wind became colder. His feet and hands felt like ice in the snow. "I have to take the chance! I have to! This is the only place I can find warm clothes and food!" he thought.