At this point this body of water was several hundred feet wide.  The bank sloped directly to the water’s edge.  Near at hand were several private boat-houses, one belonging to Mr. Aaron Woodward, he having built it to please Duncan.

At the end of the boat-house pier lay a skiff, the oars resting upon the seats.  I knew it was wrong to make use of the craft, but “necessity knows no law,” and my need was great.

Running down to the end of the pier, I dropped into the boat and shoved off.  As I did so, Duncan Woodward, accompanied by Pultzer, came out of the boat-house.

“Hi, there, what are you doing in my boat?” he sang out.  “What, Roger Strong!” he continued as he came nearer.

“You must lend me the boat, Duncan,” I returned.  “I’ve got to cross the river in a hurry.”

“Not much!  I thought you were in jail.”

“Not just now,” I replied.  “You can get your boat on the other side.”

“Hold up!  You shan’t have her.  Come back!”

But I was already pulling out into the stream.  He continued to shout after me, and presently I saw the two joined by Booth, and all watched me in dismay as I made for the opposite shore.

Reaching the bank, I beached the boat high up and then climbed to the roadway that ran beside the stream.  Trees and bushes were thick here, and I had but little difficulty in hiding from the view of those opposite.

For a moment I hesitated as to which way to proceed.  A number of miles down the stream lay Newville, of which I have already spoken.  Probably my pursuers would think I had gone in that direction.  If so, they would hasten to the bridge below, with the intention of cutting me off.

I therefore started immediately on my way up the river road, resolved to put as much ground as possible between myself and my pursuers.  I had no definite destination in view, but thought to gain some hiding-place where I might rest secure and think things over.

It was now going on to two o’clock in the afternoon, and as I had not had anything to eat since the noon previous, I began to feel decidedly hungry.  I felt in my pocket and discovered that I was the possessor of sixty-five cents, and with this amount of cash I did not see any reason for my remaining hungry any longer.

Presently I came to a small, white cottage, upon the front porch of which was displayed the sign

Boarding

Ascending the steps, I knocked at the door, and a comely, middle-aged woman answered my summons.

“I see that you take boarders here,” I said, “I am hungry, and several miles from any restaurant.  Can you furnish me with dinner?”

She looked me over rather sharply before replying.  Then I realize for the first time that my appearance was not of the best.  My clothes were considerably the worse for having rolled over and over in the old tool house, and in escaping from my prison I had made several rents in my coat.