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.