The gray haired tramp was on the run. It took only seconds for the younger man to reach out, knowing his grasp would pull the ghost rider down, but just as his glove latched onto a bony shoulder, the phantom traveler twisted free. With incredible agility, he hit an open boxcar, and like some strange insect disappeared inside. Curly was right behind him, climbing into darkness. Suddenly, there was a scraping, banging sound as the cargo door opened on the other side of the train. For one split second, Curly saw the billowing of a ragged shirt as the hobo jumped into light and was gone. By the time Curly reached the sunlit opening, the train lurched forward and he grabbed instinctively to the side of the sliding door. As the locomotive pulled its hanger-ons out of the station, the gypsy looked for his ghost but he had vanished. It would be an easy drop to the ground, only a short walk back to the depot and home.