Tom wanted to resist the execution of his sentence, but he was still weak from the effects of his fall, and he could not expect to vanquish both the squire and his son; so, with an earnest protest, he permitted himself to be led to the attic chamber.  The squire thrust him into the room, and after carefully securing the door, left our hero to meditate upon the reverse of fortune which had overtaken him.

CHAPTER VI.

The way is prepared.

“Where do you suppose Thomas is?” said Mrs. Somers, as she glanced at the clock, which indicated half-past nine.

“I don’t know,” replied John.  “He can’t be a great ways off.  I saw him in front of the squire’s house when the committee went in.”

“The boy’s gone down to the Harbor again with the rest of the folks, talking about the war,” added gran’ther Greene, as he rose from his chair, and hobbled into his chamber adjoining the kitchen.

At ten o’clock, the mother began to be a little uneasy; and at eleven, even John had some fears that all was not well with his brother.  Neither of them was able to suggest anything that could possibly have happened to the absentee.  There had been no battle fought, and so nobody could have been killed.  There had been no violence used in the transactions of the evening further than breaking in the front door of Squire Pemberton, so that it was not easy to believe that any accident had happened to him.

John had given a glowing account of the proceedings at the house of the squire and the family had been much interested and excited by the stirring narrative.  His mother was perfectly satisfied, as no one had been injured, and hoped the great man of Pinchbrook would be brought to his senses.  All these topics had been fully discussed during the evening.  John had informed his mother that Captain Benson, who had formerly commanded the Pinchbrook Riflemen, intended to raise a company for the war.  He mentioned the names of half a dozen young men who had expressed their desire to join.  The family had suggested that this and that man would go, and thus the long evening passed away.

“I don’t see what has become of Thomas,” said Mrs. Somers, when the clock struck eleven, as she rose from her chair and looked out of the window.

“Well, I don’t see, either,” replied John.  “I don’t believe there is anything going on at this time of night.”

“I hope nothing has happened to him,” continued the anxious mother, as she went to the door and looked out, hoping, perhaps, to discover him in the gloom of the night, or to hear his familiar step.

“What could have happened to him?” asked John, who did not believe his brother was fool enough to fall overboard, or permit any serious accident to happen to him.

“I don’t know.  I can’t see what has got the boy.  He always comes home before nine o’clock.  Have you heard him say anything that will give you an idea where he is?”