Mr. Huxter felt better after a night's rest. In fact, his injuries had not been as serious as he wished Mrs. Huxter to suppose. The truth is, he was a coward, and even a small sickness terrified him. But with the morning, finding himself very little inconvenienced by his mishap of the day previous, his courage returned, and with it his determination to wreak condign vengeance on John.

"How do you feel, Mr. Huxter?" asked his wife.

"I feel like whipping that young scamp, Oakley," said her husband.

"He has done nothing that deserves punishment, I am sure."

"Of course, scalding me is a very slight affair, in your opinion; but I happen to think differently," he said, with a sneer.

He drew on his pantaloons as he spoke, and seizing a leather strap, left the room.

"Oh, dear," sighed Mrs. Huxter, "I do wish Mr. Huxter wouldn't be so violent. I don't see what can have turned him so against that poor boy. I am sure he's very polite and gentlemanly."

She wanted to say more, in the hope of dissuading her husband from his harsh resolution, but she dared not. She went to the foot of the attic stairs to listen, fearing that she would hear the sounds of an altercation. She saw Mr. Huxter draw the bolt and enter the chamber, but she was quite unprepared to see him burst forth furiously a minute later, exclaiming in a rage:—

"He's gone,—the young rascal has escaped."

"Escaped?" repeated Mrs. Huxter, bewildered, for she could not conceive how John could escape from a third-story room when the door was bolted.

"Ha, are you there?" demanded her husband. "What do you know of this?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Nothing at all," said Mrs. Huxter. "I don't see how he could have got away."

"You'll see plain enough if you come upstairs," said her husband. "He got out of the window."

"Jumped out?" gasped Mrs. Huxter.

"Slid down by the bed-cord, you fool!" said her husband, who was too angry to be polite.

"I declare!" exclaimed Mrs. Huxter, in a tone indicating her surprise.

"Did you advise him to run away?" asked Mr. Huxter.

"Of course not."

"And did you know nothing of his going? Didn't he tell you?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Not a word. But I'm glad he's gone,—I really am."

"You're glad we've lost six dollars a week, are you?" growled her husband. "You'd like to see us starvin', I suppose. But you needn't be in such a hurry to be glad. I'll have him back yet, and then if he doesn't get the tallest kind of a flogging, that'll sicken him of running away forever, my name is not Huxter."

"You'd better let him go, husband. Don't go after him."

"You'll oblige me by minding your business, Mrs. Huxter. I shall go after him, as soon as I have eaten breakfast."

Meanwhile John, feeling very hungry, as was stated at the close of the last chapter, determined to get a breakfast at the first inn on the road. He had only to walk a mile further, when he came to a country inn, with its long piazza, and stable-yard alongside. It had a comfortable look, suggestive of good old-fashioned hospitality.

John walked through the front entrance, chancing to meet the landlord.

"Can I have some breakfast?" he asked.

"Are you travelling alone?" asked the landlord, who was a Yankee.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I guess we can give you some. What would you like?"

"I should like some beefsteak and a couple of eggs."

"Coffee or tea?"

"Coffee."

"Very well."

"How soon will it be ready, sir? I've taken a long walk, and am very hungry."

"You won't have to wait long. Here, Betty, just get up some breakfast for this young man. Beefsteak, boiled eggs, and coffee. As quick as you can."

In twenty minutes John was told that breakfast was ready. He was shown into rather a cheerless dining-room, but the meat emitted a savory odor, and he enjoyed the meal better, it seemed to him, than ever before in his life. He rose from the table at length with a sigh of enjoyment. Going into the office he called for his bill.

"Fifty cents," said the landlord.

John produced a two-dollar bill, and the change was returned to him.

"Not going to stay with us?" said the landlord, interrogatively.

"No," said John; "I've got to travel further."

"Where may you have come from?"

"From Jackson this morning," said John.

"Did you walk? It's a pretty long stretch,—hard upon ten miles."

"I rode part of the way."

"And where are you bound?"

John was beginning to tire of this persistent questioning, and would have declined answering, but that he feared this would excite suspicion.

"I am going to Redport," he answered.

Redport, as he had ascertained, was the next town on the route. He did not think it necessary to mention that he was going considerably further.

"Redport!" repeated the landlord.

"Yes. How far is it?"

"It's a matter of six miles. Are you going to walk?"

"Yes, unless I find somebody that's going that way."

"I'm going over myself this afternoon. If you'll wait till that time you may go with me."

"Thank you," said John; "but I don't think I will wait. I've got pretty good legs, and I shan't mind the walk."

"You can get over in two hours easy. Ever been that way before?"

"No."

"Well, it's a straight road. You can't miss it."

John left the landlord's presence with a feeling of relief. He had declined his offer for two reasons: partly because he did not want to wait till afternoon, but principally because the landlord would be sure to ask where he intended to stop in Redport, which would of course embarrass him.

John waited about half an hour, as he did not wish to walk immediately after a hearty meal. Then, having cut a stick from a tree by the roadside, he went on his way.

Twenty minutes after his departure, Mr. Huxter rode up to the inn which he had just left. That gentleman had procured a fast horse from the stable, for the pursuit of the runaway. It was rather extravagant, to be sure; but then Mr. Huxter felt that he must have John back at all hazards. He could not afford to let a boy escape who paid him three hundred dollars a year, besides the work he intended to get out of him. Then again, he thought, by proper representations, he could induce his sister to pay all the expenses attending John's capture.

"It's only fair," he thought, "that Jane should pay for the team, if I give my time."

So Mr. Huxter sped along the road at a rapid rate. He had taken the right road by chance, and having met a boy who had met John and described his appearance accurately, he had the satisfaction of knowing that he was on the track of the fugitive.

Arriving at the tavern, it occurred to him that John might have stopped to rest, if nothing more. He accordingly descended hastily from the carriage, and accosted the landlord, whom he knew slightly.

"Good-morning, Mr. Jones."

"Good-morning, Mr. Huxter. Going to stop with us?"

"I can't stop now. Have you seen anything of a boy of about fifteen, rather stout built, who must have passed this way lately?"

"Blue suit?" interrogated the landlord.

"Yes; have you seen him?"

"You don't mean to say you're after him?"

"Yes, I do. But have you seen him?"

"Yes, he took breakfast here only an hour ago. Son of yours?"

"No, he was my nephew."

"Run away, hey?"

"Yes; he's been acting badly, and I suppose he thought I was going to punish him; so the young rascal took to his heels."

"Sho! you don't say so! He paid for his breakfast all right."

"You can judge how he came by his money," said Mr. Huxter.

"You don't say so! Well, he is a bad case," said the landlord, who concluded, as it was intended he should, that John had stolen the money. "Well, he don't look like it."

"Oh, he's a deep young rascal!" said Mr. Huxter. "You'd think butter wouldn't melt in his mouth; but he's a regular scamp. Which road did he take?"

"He said he was going to Redport."

"What time did he start?"

"Less than half an hour ago. He can't have got much over a mile. If you keep on, you'll be sure to overhaul him."

"I'll do that with a vengeance," said Mr. Huxter.

"Thank you for your information, Mr. Jones. I'll do as much for you some time."

"All right. Stop on the way back, won't you?"

"Well, I don't know but I will. I only took a mouthful of breakfast, I was in such a hurry to pursue this young scamp."

"Well, it's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the landlord. "The boy's running away has brought me two customers. I had no idea he was such a young rascal."

"I might as well get a good breakfast," soliloquized Mr. Huxter. "I can charge it to Jane. She can't expect me to chase John Oakley over hill and dale on an empty stomach!"

Mr. Huxter began to indulge in pleasing anticipations of what he would do to John when he had captured him, forgetting the good old rule, that before cooking a hare you must catch him.