the village watch-tower-第7章

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'most；　'n'　yet　they　hadn't　been　able　to　lay　up　a　cent！〃

If　this　peculiarity　of　administration　was　its　worst　feature；

it　was　certainly　one　that　would　have　had　no　terrors　for　Tom　o'

the　blueb'ry　plains。　　Terrors　of　some　sort；　nevertheless；

the　poor…farm　had　for　him；　and　when　the　sheriff's　party

turned　in　by　the　clump　of　white　birches　and　approached

the　cabin；　they　found　that　fear　had　made　the　simple　wise。

Tom　had　provished　the　little　upper　chamber；　and；　in　place

of　the　piece　of　sacking　that　usually　served　him　for　a　door

in　winter；　he　had　woven　a　defense　of　willow。　　In　fine；

he　had　taken　all　his　basket　stuff；　and；　treating　the　opening

through　which　he　entered　and　left　his　home　precisely　as

if　it　were　a　bottomless　chair；　he　had　filled　it　in　solidly；

weaving　to　and　fro；　by　night　as　well　as　by　day；　till　he　felt；

poor　fool；　as　safely　intrenched　as　if　he　were　in　the　heart

of　a　fortress。



The　sheriff　tied　his　horse　to　a　tree；　and　Rube　Hobson　and　Pitt　Packard

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

of　d