"To-morrow I will leave Jackson," thought John, as he undressed himself, and jumped into bed.

His spirits rose as he made this resolution. It had been very irksome to him to feel that he was under the control of such a man as Mr. Huxter,—a man for whom it was impossible for him to feel either respect or regard. Under any circumstances it would have been disagreeable for him to remain, but off from the studies in which he had taken delight, the time passed heavily; he felt that he had no longer an object in life. But the petty persecutions to which he was subjected made it intolerable, and he was satisfied that the accident which had befallen Mr. Huxter would only make matters worse.

Meanwhile Mr. Huxter, on his bed below, cherished thoughts the reverse of agreeable concerning our hero.

"I'll come up with the young rascal," he muttered. "He'll find it's a bad day's work he's done for himself."

"It wasn't his fault, Mr. Huxter," said his wife, who wanted justice done.

"Why isn't it his fault?" said her husband, looking at her with a frown.

"He didn't know you would slip into the tub."

"And I shouldn't wonder if you put it there, Mrs. Huxter. It was a regular trap."

"I put it there just for a few minutes. I was going to move it."

"Yes, after you had accomplished your object, and got me scalded."

"You ought not to say such things, Mr. Huxter. You know I was innocent of any such intention."

"Oh, of course nobody was to blame! That's always the way. But it isn't much comfort to me."

"I don't see how anybody was to blame."

"Well, I do," said Mr. Huxter, savagely. "As soon as I get up, I'll give Oakley such a flogging as he never got before."

It was a great disappointment to Mr. Huxter that he could not carry out his benevolent design at once; but he felt too uncomfortable for that.

"I wish you had never brought him here," said Mrs. Huxter. "I am sure he cannot enjoy himself much here."

"I don't care whether he enjoys himself or not," said her husband. "We get six dollars a week for his board,—that's the main point. And next week, when I set him to work in the shop, we'll make a pretty good thing out of him."

"I don't believe he will be willing to work in the shop. He knows that you get paid for his board."

"I think I can persuade him with the horsewhip," said Mr. Huxter, significantly.

At that moment John's steps were heard as he ascended the attic stairs on his way to bed.

A new thought came to Mr. Huxter about an hour later. He reflected that it was in John's power to elude his vengeance by escaping, and this he had no intention of permitting.

"Mrs. Huxter," he said.

"Do you want anything?"

"Yes, I want you to go upstairs, and fasten the door of John Oakley's chamber."

"What for?"

"No matter what for. Go and do it, and I will tell you afterwards."

"He won't be able to come downstairs in the morning."

"I don't mean that he shall. I'll keep him in his room for twenty-four hours on bread and water. It'll be a good lesson for him. Come, are you going? If you don't I'll get out of bed myself, and go up."

Mrs. Huxter thought it best to comply with the command accompanied by such a threat. Much against her will, therefore, she went up and secured the door of John's chamber by a bolt placed upon the outside. She hoped that her husband would forget all about it during the night, so that she might release John before he had learned that he had been a prisoner.

It was about half-past three that John awoke. He did not know what time it was, but conjectured that it might be near four. Though he still felt sleepy, he deemed it advisable to lose no more time, but escape while Mr. Huxter was asleep. He accordingly dressed himself as carefully as he could, in the imperfect light, and went on tiptoe to the door. He tried to open it, but without success. Thinking that the door might stick, he made another attempt. This time he understood the state of things.

"I have been bolted in," he said to himself. "Can Mr. Huxter have suspected my plan?"

Whether this was or was not the case John was unable to determine.

He sat down on the bed, and reflected what he had better do. Should he give up the attempt, and go to bed again? No; he was resolved not to relinquish his plan while there was any chance of carrying it out.

He went to the window and looked out. If it had been on the second floor the difficulty would have been less, but it was an attic window, and over twenty feet from the ground. There was no ell part beneath; but the distance to the ground was unbroken.

A sudden thought struck John. He turned up the bed, and found that it rested upon an interlacing cord. Why could he not detach this cord, and, fastening it to some fixed object in the chamber, descend with safety to the ground? The plan no sooner occurred to John than he determined to carry it into execution.

The rope proved to be quite long enough for his purpose. He fastened one end securely, and dropped the other over the sill. Looking down, he saw that it nearly reached the ground. He had no fear of trusting himself to it. He had always been good at climbing ropes, and was very strong in the arms.

"After all," he thought, "this is better than to have gone downstairs. I might have stumbled over something in the dark, and Mr. Huxter would have been roused by the noise."

He got out of the window, and swung out. He let himself down as noiselessly as possible. In less than a minute he stood upon the ground, under the gray morning sky.

He looked up to Mr. Huxter's window, but everything was still. Evidently no one had heard him.

"So far, so good," thought John. "Now I must travel as many miles as possible between now and six o'clock. That will give me a good start if I am pursued."

John hoped he would meet no one who would recognize him. But in this he was disappointed. He had walked six miles, when he heard his name called from behind. Startled, he looked back hastily, and to his relief discovered that the call came from David Wallace, who had taken him up on his first journey to Milbank.

"Where are you going, John?" asked David. "Don't you want to ride?"

"Thank you," said John.

He jumped on board the wagon, and took a seat beside David.

"You are travelling early, David," he said.

"Just what I was going to say to you," said David, laughing. "Are you walking for your health?"

"Not exactly," said John. "I've a great mind to tell you. You won't tell?"

"Honor bright!"

"Then, I've left Mr. Huxter without bidding him good-by."

"Good!" said David. "I don't blame you a bit. Tell me how it happened."

David was highly amused at Mr. Huxter's adventure with the tub.

"I must tell that to George Sprague," he exclaimed. "It's a good joke."

"I'm afraid Mr. Huxter wouldn't agree with you there."

"He never does agree with anybody. Now tell me how you managed to walk off."

John narrated how he found himself locked in, and how he resorted to the expedient of the bed-cord.

"You're a trump, John!" said David, slapping him on the shoulder. "I didn't think you had so much spunk."

"What did you think of me?" asked John, smiling.

"You see you're such a quiet fellow, you don't look as if you were up to such things. But what will you do if Mr. Huxter pursues you?"

"I can tell better when the time comes," said John.

"You wouldn't go back with him?"

"Not if I could help myself. I don't feel that he has any right to control me. He isn't my guardian, and he is the last man, I know, that my father would be willing to trust me with."

"I wish I could see how he looks when he finds you are gone. If you'd like to send him your love I could go round by the house on my way back."

"I don't think I shall need to trouble you, David," said John.

"Whereabouts are you going?"

"I have an aunt living about fifty miles away. I shall go there for the present."

"Well, I'm sorry you're going to leave Jackson. I mean I'm sorry I shan't see you any more. Can't you write to me now and then?"

"I would but for one thing," said John.

"What's that?"

"I am afraid the letters would be noticed by the postmaster, and put Mr. Huxter on the track. I don't want to have any more to do with him."

"There's something in that. I didn't think of it. At any rate I hope we'll meet again some time."

"So do I, David. You have been very kind to me, and I shall not forget it. I don't know what lies before me, but I shall keep up good courage, hoping that things will come out right in the end."

"That's the best way. But I am afraid I must bid you good-by here. I turn up that side road. I suppose you are going straight ahead."

"Yes."

"I wish I could carry you further."

"It's been quite a help what I have already ridden."

"Whoa, Dan!" said David, and the horse stopped.

"Good-by, David," said John, as he jumped out of the wagon.

"Good-by, John. Then you haven't any message to send back to Mr. Huxter?"

"Not to him," said John; "but," he added, after a moment's thought, "if you happen to see Mrs. Huxter, just let her know that you saw me, and that I am grateful for all she tried to do for me."

"You're sure she won't tell her husband?"

"No; she acted like a good friend. I would like to have said good-by; but it wouldn't do."

"All right, I'll remember what you say. Good-by, old fellow."

"Good-by, David."

John estimated that he was now nearly ten miles from his starting-place. The sun was already shining brightly, and it promised to be a fine day. Our hero began to feel hungry. The fresh morning air had given him an appetite.