I ascends the stairs once more to see if I could not find something besides the keg to assist me.  If only I had a plank or a beam, I might use it as a battering-ram.

The thought of a plank led me to examine the floor, and, going over it carefully, I soon came to a short board, one end of which was loose.  Raising it, I pulled with all my might, and the board came up.

I was astonished to see that it made an opening into the shop below.  I had imagined that the floor or ceiling was of double thickness.

This gave me a new idea.  Why not escape through the floor?  To pry up another board would perhaps be easier than to force the door.

I tried the board next to the opening.  The end was somewhat rotted, and it came up with hardly an effort.

In another moment the opening would be large enough to allow the passage of my body.  Putting the first board under the edge of the second, I bore down upon it.

As I did so I heard a noise that alarmed me greatly.  It was the sound of Booth returning, and the next instant the carpenter had opened the outer door and entered.

In one hand he carried a tray containing my dinner.  He crossed the floor directly under me without looking up.  Then his eyes caught the shattered door and he gave a loud exclamation.

“By ginger!  If that boy ain’t gone and escaped!”

He set down the tray with a rattle and tried to pull the door open.  But the top bolt had become displaced, and it was several seconds before it could be shot back.

Meanwhile I was not idle.  As quietly as I could I tore up the second board.  The deed was done just as Booth stumbled over the keg on his way up the stairs.

As my jailer appeared at the top, I let my body through the opening.  It was a tight squeeze, especially when accomplished in a hurry.  I landed in a heap on a pile of shavings.

“Stop! stop!” called out Booth.  “Roger, don’t you hear me?”

I certainly did hear him, but paid no attention to his words.  My one thought was to get away as quickly as possible.

“If you don’t stop, I’ll shoot you,” went on Booth at the top of his voice.  “Don’t you know breaking jail is a—­ a felony?”

I did not know what kind of a crime it was.  I had made up my mind to escape, and intended to do so, even if such a deed constituted manslaughter.  I made a break for the door and passed out just as Booth came tramping down the stairs.

I ran across the yard that separated the carpenter shop from the house.  As I did so, Mrs. Booth appeared at the back door.  Upon seeing me she held up her hands in horror.

“Mercy on us!  Roger Strong!  Where be you a-running to?  ’Zekel!  ’Zekel! the prisoner’s broke loose!”

“I know it, Mandy!” I heard Ezekiel Booth answer.  “Dunno how he did it, though.  Stop, Roger, it’s best now; jest you mark my word!”

I heard no more.  Jumping the side fence, I ran through a bit of orchard and across a stony lot until I reached the Pass River.