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Then he knelt by the fire and painfully wrote something upon each of these with his "red keel"; one he rolled up and put in his jacket pocket, and the other he put in Joe's hat and removed it to a little distance from the owner.

And he also put into the hat certain schoolboy treasures of almost inestimable value-among them a lump of chalk, an India-rubber ball, three fishhooks, and one of that kind of marbles known as a "sure 'nough crystal." Then he tiptoed his way cautiously among the trees till he felt that he was out of hearing, and straightway broke into a keen run in the direction of the sandbar.

A few minutes later Tom was in the shoal water of the bar, wading toward the Illinois shore.

Before the depth reached his middle he was halfway over; the current would permit no more wading, now, so he struck out confidently to swim the remaining hundred yards.

He swam quartering upstream, but still was swept downward rather faster than he had expected.

However, he reached the shore finally, and drifted along till he found a low place and drew himself out.

He put his hand on his jacket pocket, found his piece of bark safe, and then struck through the woods, following the shore, with streaming garments.

Shortly before ten o'clock he came out into an open place opposite the village, and saw the ferryboat lying in the shadow of the trees and the high bank.

Everything was quiet under the blinking stars.

He crept down the bank, watching with all his eyes, slipped into the water, swam three or four strokes and climbed into the skiff that did "yawl" duty at the boat's stern.

He laid himself down under the thwarts and waited, panting.

Presently the cracked bell tapped and a voice gave the order to "cast off." A minute or two later the skiff's head was standing high up, against the boat's swell, and the voyage was begun.

Tom felt happy in his success, for he knew it was the boat's last trip for the night.

At the end of a long twelve or fifteen minutes the wheels stopped, and Tom slipped overboard and swam ashore in the dusk, landing fifty yards downstream, out of danger of possible stragglers.

He flew along unfrequented alleys, and shortly found himself at his aunt's back fence.

He climbed over, approached the "ell," and looked in at the sitting-room window, for a light was burning there.

There sat Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, and Joe Harper's mother, grouped together, talking.

They were by the bed, and the bed was between them and the door.

Tom went to the door and began to softly lift the latch; then he pressed gently and the door yielded a crack; he continued pushing cautiously, and quaking every time it creaked, till he judged he might squeeze through on his knees; so he put his head through and began, warily.

"What makes the candle blow so?" said Aunt Polly. Tom hurried up. "Why, that door's open, I believe. Why, of course it is. No end of strange things now. Go 'long and shut it, Sid."

Tom disappeared under the bed just in time. He lay and "breathed" himself for a time, and then crept to where he could almost touch his aunt's foot.

"But as I was saying," said Aunt Polly, "he warn't bad, so to say-only mischeevous. Only just giddy, and harum-scarum, you know. He warn't any more responsible than a colt. He never meant any harm, and he was the best-hearted boy that ever was"-and she began to cry.

"It was just so with my Joe-always full of his devilment, and up to every kind of mischief, but he was just as unselfish and kind as he could be-and laws bless me, to think I went and whipped him for taking that cream, never once recollecting that I throwed it out myself because it was sour, and I never to see him again in this world, never, never, never, poor abused boy!" And Mrs. Harper sobbed as if her heart would break.

CHAPTER XV

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