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got out of the double wagon。 Two men laughed when they saw the pathetic
defense； but the other shut his lips together and caught his breath。
（He had been born on a poor…farm； but no one knew it at Pleasant River。）
They called Tom's name repeatedly； but no other sound broke the silence
of the plains save the rustling of the wind among the dead leaves。
〃Numb…head！〃 muttered the sheriff； pounding on the side
of the cabin with his whip…stock。 〃Come out and show yourself！
We know you're in there； and it's no use hiding！〃
At last in response to a deafening blow from Rube Hobson's hard fist；
there came the answering note of a weak despairing voice。
〃Tom ain't ter hum；〃 it said； 〃Tom's gone to Bonny Eagle。〃
〃That's all right！〃 guffawed the men； 〃but you've got to go some more；
and go a diff'rent way。 It ain't no use fer you to hold back； we've got
a ladder； and by Jiminy！ you go with us this time！〃
The ladder was put against the side of the hut； and Pitt Packard
climbed up； took his jack…knife； slit the woven door from top to bottom；
and turned back the flap。
The men could see the inside of the chamber now。 They were humorous
persons who could strain a joke to the snapping point； but they felt；
at last； that there was nothing especially amusing in the situation。
Tom was huddled in a heap on the straw bed in the far corner。
The vacant smile had fled from his face； and he looked； for the first
time in his life； quite distraught。
〃Come along； Tom；〃 said the sheriff kindly；
〃we 're going to take you where you can sleep in a bed；
and have three meals a day。〃
〃I'd much d'ruth…er walk in the bloom…in' gy…ar…ding；〃
sang Tom quaveringly； as he hid his head in a paroxysm of fear。
〃Well； there ain't no bloomin' gardings to walk in jest now；
so come along and be peaceable。〃
〃Tom don' want to go to the poor…farm；〃 he wailed piteously。
But there was no alternative。 They dragged him off the bed
and down the ladder as gently as possible； then Rube Hobson held him
on the back seat of the wagon； while the sheriff unhitched the horse。
As they were on the point of starting； the captive began to wail
and struggle more than ever； the burden of his plaint being a wild
and tremulous plea for his pail of molasses。
〃Dry up； old softy； or I'll put the buggy robe over your head！〃
muttered Rube Hobson； who had not had much patience when he started
on the trip； and had lost it all by this time。
〃By thunder！ he shall hev his molasses； if he thinks he wants it！〃
said Pitt Packard； and he ran up the ladder and brought it down；
comforting the shivering creature thus； for he lapsed into a submissive
silence that lasted until the unwelcome journey was over。
Tom remained at the poorhouse precisely twelve hours。
It did not enter the minds of the authorities that any one so fortunate
as to be admitted into that happy haven would decline to stay there。
The unwilling guest disappeared early on the morrow of his arrival； and；
after some search； they followed him to the old spot。 He had climbed
into his beloved retreat； and； having learned nothing from experience；
had mended the willow door as best he could； and laid him down in peace。
They dragged him out again； and this time more impatiently；
for it was exasperating to see a man （even if he were a fool）
fight against a bed and three meals a day。
The second attempt was little more successful than the first。
As a place of residence； the poor…farm did not seem any more desirable
or attractive on near acquaintance than it did at long range。
Tom remained a week； because he was kept in close confinement；
but when they judged that he was weaned from his old home；
they loosed his bonds； andback to the plains he sped； like an arrow
shot from the bow； or like a bit of iron leaping to the magnet。
What should be done with him？
Public opinion was divided。 Some people declared that
the village had done its duty； and if the 〃dog…goned lunk…head〃
wanted to starve and freeze； it was his funeral； not theirs。
Others thought that the community had no resource but to
bear the responsibility of its irresponsible children；
however troublesome they might be。 There was entire
unanimity of view so far as the main issues were concerned。
It was agreed that nobody at the poor…farm had leisure to stand
guard over Tom night and day； and that the sheriff could
not be expected to spend his time forcing him out of his hut
on the blueberry plains。
There was but one more expedient to be tried； a very simple
and ingenious but radical and comprehensive one； which； in Rube
Hobson's opinion； would strike at the root of the matter。
Tom had fled from captivity for the third time。
He had stolen out at daybreak； and； by an unexpected stroke
of fortune； the molasses pail was hanging on a nail by the shed door。
The remains of a battered old bushel basket lay on the wood…pile： bottom
it had none； nor handles； rotundity of side had long since disappeared；
and none but its maker would have known it for a basket。 Tom caught it
up in his flight； and； seizing the first crooked stick that offered；
he slung the dear familiar burden over his shoulder and started off
on a jog…trot。
Heaven； how happy he was！ It was the rosy dawn of an Indian summer day；
a warm jewel of a day； dropped into the bleak world of yesterday without
a hint of beneficent intention； one of those enchanting weather surprises
with which Dame Nature reconciles us to her stern New England rule。
The joy that comes of freedom； and the freedom
that comes of joy； unbent the old man's stiffened joints。
He renewed his youth at every mile。 He ran like a lapwing。
When his feet first struck the sandy soil of the plains； he broke
into old song of the 〃bloom…in' gy…ar…ding〃 and the 〃jolly swain；〃
and in the marvelous mental and spiritual exhilaration
born of the supreme moment he almost grasped that impossible
last note。 His heard could hardly hold its burden of rapture
when he caught the well…known gleam of the white birches。
He turned into the familiar path； boy's blood thumping in old
man's veins。 The past week had been a dreadful dream。
A few steps more and he would be within sight；
within touch of home；home at last！ Nowhat was wrong？
He must have gone beyond it； in his reckless haste！
Strange that he could have forgotten the beloved spot！
Can lover mistake the way to sweetheart's window？
Can child lose the path to mother's knee？
He turned；ran hither and thither； like one distraught。
A nameless dread flitted through his dull mind； chilling his
warm blood； paralyzing the activity of the moment before。
At last； with a sob like that of a frightened child
who flies from some imagined evil lurking in darkness；
he darted back to the white birches and started anew。
This time he trusted to blind instinct； his feet knew the path；
and； left to themselves； they took him through the tangle