Meanwhile John was plodding along at a moderate pace. He had no idea of the danger that menaced him. He was now ten or eleven miles away from Jackson, and this gave him a feeling of security; not that the distance was so great, but that, of the many directions in which he might have gone, he saw no reason to think that Mr. Huxter would be likely to guess the right one.

On the whole, John felt in very good spirits. It was a bright, pleasant morning in September, with a clear, bracing air, that lent vigor to his steps. He decided to stop in Redport until after dinner, and then inquire his way more particularly. He determined to take the stage or cars, if he found any that ran across to Wilton. The expense would not be any greater, probably, than the cost of the meal and lodging for which, if he walked, he would be obliged to pay at the country inns.

He had got to the bottom of a hill when he heard the clattering of wheels behind him, and was startled by the sound of a voice only too familiar. "Stop, you rascal!"

John looked round, and his heart made a sudden bound when he recognized the well-known face of Mr. Huxter projecting out of a chaise, which was tearing down the hill at furious speed.

"So I've caught you, have I?" exclaimed his pursuer, in exultation. "I've got an account to settle with you, you young scamp!"

John was no coward, but he knew that in a physical contest, he, a boy of fifteen, would be no match for a man close upon six feet in height. Discretion was evidently the better part of valor. If he could not overcome his antagonist, could he elude him? He darted a quick glance around, in order to understand the situation and form his plans.

He couldn't keep on, that was evident. To the right, at the distance of a quarter of a mile, he saw a small pond gleaming in the sunlight. It might have been a mile in circumference. Behind it was a belt of woods. It occurred to John that he might find a boat somewhere along the shore. If so, he could paddle across, and Mr. Huxter would be left in the lurch. If he found no boat, his chances would be small. But at any rate this seemed his only feasible plan. Mr. Huxter was already within a few rods, so there was no time to lose. John clambered up on the stone wall.

"Stop, you rascal!" shouted Mr. Huxter, as soon as he saw this movement.

"I'd rather not," said John, coolly.

"I'll give you the worst flogging you ever had!" said his pursuer, provoked.

"That's no inducement," said John, as he jumped on the other side, and began to run across the field.

"I'll make him pay for all the trouble he gives me," said Mr. Huxter, between his teeth.

He stopped the horse, and jumped into the road. He would like to have pursued John at once, but he did not dare to leave the horse loose, fearing that he would not stand. Although chafing at the delay, he felt that prudence required him to secure the horse, which was a valuable one, before setting out after the fugitive. "The more haste the worse speed," says an old proverb. So it proved in the present instance. Five minutes were consumed in attaching the horse to the branch of a tree. This done, Mr. Huxter jumped over the stone wall, and looked to see how far John had got. Our hero had already reached the shore of the pond, and was running along beside it. Mr. Huxter's eyes lighted up with exultation.

"I'll have him yet," he muttered. "The pond is in my favor."

He began to run diagonally to the point John was likely to reach. But suddenly John stopped and bent over.

"What's he doing?" thought the pursuer puzzled.

A moment revealed the mystery. Reaching the top of a little knoll, he saw John jump into a boat, rowing vigorously from shore. He was only just in time. One minute later, and Mr. Huxter stood at the edge of the pond. He was excessively provoked at the boy's escape.

"Come back here!" he shouted, authoritatively.

"I would rather not," said John.

He rested on his oars a moment, and looked calmly at his pursuer. There he was, only three rods distant, and yet quite out of reach. Certainly it was very tantalizing. If there had only been another boat! But there was not. The one which John was in was the only one upon the pond. John felt very comfortable. He fully appreciated the advantage he had over his antagonist.

"Come back here, I say!" screamed Mr. Huxter, stamping his foot.

"Why should I?" asked John, calmly.

"Why should you? Because I'm your guardian."

"I don't think you are, Mr. Huxter."

"At any rate, you're under my charge."

"Suppose I come to the shore, what then?" asked John.

"I'll give you such a flogging that you won't dare to run away again."

"In that case," said John, smiling, "I think I'd better not come."

"You'd better come, if you know what is best for yourself."

"But I don't think a flogging would be best for me," said John, smiling again.

Mr. Huxter was excessively angry; but he saw that he was on the wrong tack. It was not easy for him to change it, for he felt too provoked; but he saw that he must do it, or give up the chance of capturing John.

"Well," he said, after a little pause, "then I'll pass over the flogging this time. But you must come to shore. I want to go home as soon as I can."

"I am not going home with you," said John, composedly.

"Why not, I should like to know?"

"I should never be happy at your house."

"You're homesick. That will pass off."

John shook his head.

"I can't go back."

"Come, Oakley," said Mr. Huxter, changing his tone; "you think I bear malice for the little accident that happened yesterday. I don't mind confessing that it made me feel ugly when I fell into that tub of hot water. You wouldn't have liked it yourself, would you?"

"No, I don't think I should," said John, smiling in spite of himself, as the image of Mr. Huxter's downfall rose before him.

"You can't blame me for feeling mad. But I know it was an accident, and I forgive you. You know it's your duty to come back."

"I don't know about that," said John.

"Your stepmother made the arrangement for your good, and it's your duty to obey her."

"Mrs. Oakley has not treated me as I had a right to expect," said John. "There was no reason for her sending me away from home."

"She thought it best for you," said Mr. Huxter, condescending to reason with the boy, who was beyond his reach.

"She took me from school, though she knew that my father wished me to remain there, and get ready for college."

"She thinks you know enough already. You know more than Ben."

"Ben doesn't care for study. He could have prepared for college if he had wished."

"Well, perhaps you're right," said Mr. Huxter, with wily diplomacy. "I didn't see it in that light before. If your father wanted you to go to college, it's all right that you should go. I'll write to my sister as soon as we get home, and tell her how you feel about it. So just come ashore, and we'll talk it over as we go home."

Mr. Huxter's words were smooth enough, but they did not correspond very well with his tone, when the conference began. John detected his insincerity, and understood very well the cause of his apparent mildness.

"I shall be glad to have you write to Mrs. Oakley," he said; "but there won't be any need of my going home with you."

"How can you find out what she writes me?" asked Mr. Huxter, subduing his wrath.

"If Mrs. Oakley is willing to have me go home and attend the academy, as I have been accustomed to do, she can let Squire Selwyn know it, and he will get word to me."

"Does he know you are running away?" demanded Mr. Huxter, frowning.

"No, he does not; but I shall tell him."

"Come, Oakley," said Mr. Huxter, persuasively, "you know this is all wrong,—your running away, I mean. I don't want you to stay at my house if you don't like it, of course, but I don't like to have it said that you ran away. Just come ashore and go home with me, and to-morrow I'll take the responsibility of sending you home to my sister. I can write her that I think she hasn't done the right thing by you. That's fair, isn't it?"

John felt that it would be fair; but unfortunately he had no faith in Mr. Huxter's sincerity. He had seen too much of him for that. He could not help thinking of the spider's gracious invitation to the fly, and he did not mean to incur the fly's fate by imitating his folly.

"I don't think it will be wise for me to go back," said John.

"I wish I could get at you," said Mr. Huxter to himself.

"My sister will be very angry when she hears of your running away," he said, aloud.

"Yes," said John, "I suppose she will."

"You must take care not to provoke her. You are dependent upon her."

"That I am not!" said John, proudly.

"Didn't your father leave her all the property?"

"So it seems," said John, wincing.

"Then how can you live without her help?"

"I am old enough to earn my own living," answered John.

"Come, Oakley, don't be foolish. What's the use of working for your living, when, by behaving right, you can have a home without?"

Mr. Huxter seemed to forget that he had intended to set John at work in his shoe-shop as soon as he could obtain a supply of work.

"I am not afraid to work," said John. "What I dislike is to be dependent. I am not dependent upon Mrs. Oakley, for the property which my father left was partly intended for my benefit, even if it was not willed to me. If Mrs. Oakley intends me to feel dependent, and breaks up all my plans, I will go to work for myself, and make my own way in the world."

"Very fine talk; but you'll repent it within a week."

"No," said John; "I have made up my mind, and I shall do as I have determined."

"Then you won't come ashore?" demanded Mr. Huxter, his tone changing.

"No, I will not," said John.

"If I ever get hold of you, I'll make you smart for this," said Mr. Huxter, now wholly throwing off the mask which for prudential motives he had worn.

"I don't mean that you shall get hold of me," said John, coolly. And with a sweep of the oars, he sent the boat further from the shore.

Mr. Huxter was beside himself with rage, but perfectly powerless to do any harm. Nothing is more ludicrous than such a spectacle. He screamed himself hoarse, uttering threats of various kinds to John, who, instead of being frightened, took it all very coolly, dipping his oars tranquilly in the water.

"There's one way of getting at you," said Huxter, suddenly picking up a good-sized stone and flinging it at the boat.

If he had been a good marksman the stone might have hit John, for the boat was within range; but it veered aside and struck the water. Admonished of a new danger, John took several rapid strokes, and was quickly free from this peril. Mr. Huxter shook his fist wrathfully at the young boatman, and was considering if there was any way of getting at him, when an unexpected mischance called his attention in another direction. Looking towards the road, he found that his horse had managed to break loose, and was now heading for home.

"Whoa!" he shouted, as he ran towards the retreating vehicle, forgetting that his voice would hardly reach a third of a mile.

Certainly this was not one of Mr. Huxter's lucky days. John was left master of the situation.