Though Walter was in a room on the second floor, the distance to the ground was not so great but that he could easily hang from the window-sill and jump without injury. Before following him in his flight, we will pause to inquire how the robber, unexpectedly taken captive, fared.

Nothing could have surprised Jack more than this sudden turning of the tables. But a minute since Walter was completely in his power. Now, through the boy's coolness and nerve, his thievish intentions were baffled, and he was placed in the humiliating position of a prisoner in his own house.

"Open the door, or I'll murder you!" he roared, kicking it violently.

There was no reply, for Walter was already half way out of the window, and did not think it best to answer.

Jack kicked again, but the door was a strong one, and, though it shook, did not give way.

"Draw the bolt, I say," roared the captive again, appending an oath, "or I'll wring your neck."

But our hero was already on the ground, and speeding away into the shelter of the friendly woods.

If any man was thoroughly mad, that man was Jack. It was not enough that he had been ingloriously defeated, but the most galling thing about it was that this had been done by a boy.

"I'll make him pay for this!" muttered Jack, furiously.

He saw that Walter had no intention of releasing him, and that his deliverance must come from himself. He kicked furiously, and broke through one of the panels of the door; but still the bolt held, and continued to hold, though he threw himself against the door with all his force.

Meanwhile his wife below had listened intently, at the bottom of the staircase, not without anxiety as to the result. She was a woman, and, though by no means of an amiable disposition, she was not without some humanity. She knew her husband's brutal temper, and she feared that Walter would come to harm. Part of her anxiety was selfish, to be sure, for she dreaded the penalty for her husband; but she was partly actuated by a feeling of rough good-will towards her young guest. She didn't mind his being robbed, for she felt that in some way she had been cheated out of that measure of worldly prosperity which was her due, and she had no particular scruple as to the means of getting even with the world. The fact that Walter, too, had suffered bad fortune increased her good-will towards him, and made her more reluctant that he should be ill-treated.

At first, as she listened, and while the conversation was going on, she heard nothing to excite her alarm. But when her husband had been locked in the closet, and began to kick at the door, there was such a noise that Meg, though misapprehending the state of things, got frightened.

"He's killing the poor boy, I'm afraid," she said, clasping her hands. "Why, why need he be so violent? I told him not to harm him."

Next she heard Jack's voice in angry tones, but could not understand what he said. This was followed by a fresh shower of kicks at the resisting door.

"I would go up if I dared," she thought; "but I am afraid I should see the poor boy dying."

She feared, also, her husband's anger at any interference; for, as she had reason to know, his temper was not of the gentlest. So she stood anxiously at the foot of the staircase, and continued to listen.

Meanwhile Jack, finding he could not release himself readily, bethought himself of his wife.

"Meg!" he called out, in stentorian tones.

His wife heard the summons and made haste to obey it.

She hurried upstairs, and, opening the chamber door, found herself, to her surprise, in darkness.

"Where are you, Jack?" she asked, in some bewilderment.

"Here," answered her husband.

"Where?" asked Meg; for the tones were muffled by the interposition of the door, and she could not get a clear idea of where her husband was.

"In the closet, you fool! Come and open the door," was the polite reply.

Wondering how her husband could have got into the closet, and, also, what had become of Walter, she advanced hastily to the closet-door, and drew the bolt.

Jack dashed out furiously, cursing in a manner I shall not repeat.

"How came you here, Jack?" asked his wife. "Where's the boy?"

It was so dark that he could not readily discover Walter's flight. He strode to the bedstead, and, kneeling down, began to feel about for him.

"Curse it, the boy's gone!" he exclaimed. "Why didn't you stop him?"

This he said on supposition that Walter had escaped by the stairs.

"I don't know what you mean. I've seen nothing of the boy. Wasn't he here when you came up?"

"Yes, he was, but now he's gone. He must have got out of the window," he added, with a sudden thought.

"I don't understand it," said Meg. "How came you shut up in that closet?"

"The boy sent me in on a fool's errand, and then locked me in."

"Tell me about it, Jack."

Her husband rehearsed the story, heaping execrations upon his own folly for being outwitted by a boy.

"But you've got the pocket-book and the five dollars," said his wife, by way of comforting him.

"No, I haven't. I gave them back to him, to get him to tell me where the rest of the money was. I meant to take it away from him again."

"Then he's escaped with all his money?"

"Yes," growled Jack; "he's fooled me completely. But it isn't too late. I may catch him yet. He's hiding in the woods somewhere. If I do get hold of him, I'll give him something to remember me by. I'll learn him to fool me."

"I wouldn't go out to-night, Jack," said his wife. "It's most twelve."

"If I don't go now, I'll lose him. Go downstairs, Meg, and light the candle."

"Did he have the money with him?"

"He said he hid it."

"Then perhaps he left it behind him. He had to go away in a hurry."

"That's so, Meg. Hurry down, and light the candle, and we'll hunt for it."

The suggestion was a reasonable one, and Jack caught at it. If the money were left behind, it would repay him in part for his mortification at having been fooled by a boy, and he might be tempted to let him go. What vexed him most was the idea of having been baffled completely; and the discovery of the money would go far to make things even.

Meg came up with the lighted candle; and they commenced a joint search, first in the closet, where they found the five pennies which Walter had thrown on the floor, and, afterwards, about the room, and particularly the bedding. But the roll of bills was nowhere to be found. Walter had, as we know, carried it away with him. This was the conclusion to which the seekers were ultimately brought.

"The money aint anywhere here," said Jack. "The boy's got it with him."

"Likely he has," said Meg.

"I'm goin' for him," said her husband. "Go downstairs, Meg, and I'll foller."

"You'd better wait till mornin', Jack," said his wife.

"You're a fool!" he said, unceremoniously. "If I wait till daylight, he'll be out of the woods, and I can't catch him."

"There isn't much chance now. It's dark, and you won't be likely to find him."

"I'll risk that. Anyhow, I'm goin' and so you needn't say any more about it."

Jack descended to the room below, put on his boots and hat, and, opening the outer door, sallied out into the darkness.

He paused before the door in uncertainty.

"I wish I knowed which way he went," he muttered.

There seemed little to determine the choice of direction on the part of the fugitive. There was no regular path, as Jack and his wife were the only dwellers in the forest who had occasion to use one, except such as occasionally strayed in from the outer world. There was, indeed, a path slightly marked, but this Walter could not see in the darkness. Nevertheless, as chance would have it, he struck into it and followed it for some distance.

Having nothing else to determine his course, it was only natural that Jack should take this path. Now that he was already started on his expedition, and found the natural darkness of the night deepened and made more intense by the thick foliage of the forest trees, he realized that his chances of coming upon Walter were by no means encouraging. But he kept on with dogged determination.

"I'd like to catch the young rascal, even if I don't get a penny of the money," he said to himself.

He resolved, in case he was successful, first, to give his victim a severe beating, and next, to convey him home, and keep him for weeks a close prisoner in the very closet in which he had himself been confined. The thought of such an appropriate vengeance yielded him considerable satisfaction, and stimulated him to keep up the search.