I could help it, sir. You shouldn't have tried to jump over the ditch."

"Why did you do it?"

"I wanted to get away from you."

"Jump back at once!"

A smile stole over Bernard's face.

"I shouldn't dare to," he answered. "I might fall in as you have."

"And serve you right! I order you to jump."

"Suppose I do, and get safe over?"

"I will flog you within an inch of your life," said Mr. Snowdon rather imprudently.

"That isn't inducement enough," said Bernard. "I guess I had better stay where I am."

"You needn't think you will escape the whipping. You may put it off, but you'll have to take it sooner or later."

Evidently Mr. Snowdon thought it best to put off punishing Bernard for the present. He was so bespattered with mud that it was necessary to go home and change his clothing. Septimus was very sorry for this decision, as he had been looking forward with pleasant anticipation to seeing Bernard flogged.

"You ain't goin' to let him off, pa, are you?" he asked.

"No," answered Mr. Snowdon, with a vengeful look. "The longer it's put off, the harder I'll lay it on when the time comes."

Satisfied with this assurance Septimus followed his father home. As from time to time he glanced at the figure of his parent he could not help reflecting that Mr. Snowdon was not a father to be proud of. He never looked attractive, but under present circumstances he looked more unsavory than usual.

Left alone Bernard did not leap back across the ditch, but taking a course to the right emerged into the main road about half a mile from Mr. Snowdon's house.

He took a short cut to the home of his friend Nat Barclay, whom he made acquainted with the catastrophe that had befallen Mr. Snowdon.

Nat laughed—he could hardly help it—as he pictured to himself the miry and bedraggled condition of his old teacher.

"I am afraid he'll try to get even with you, Bernard," he said apprehensively.

"No doubt he would if he got a chance."

"But he can't help having plenty of chances as you live in his house."

"But I am not going to live there any longer, Nat."

"What do you mean?"

"I shall run away."

"You won't do that, will you, Bernard? What will your guardian say? You have no one else to depend upon."

"I don't know."

"But this is serious, Bernard."

"I have myself."

"But what can a boy of fifteen do?"

"He can support himself. At any rate, he can try. The fact is, Nat, I don't think Mr. McCracken a friend of mine. I may go to him, and ask if he will make any other arrangements for me. If he won't, I will make them for myself."

"What will you do to-night, Bernard?"

"I will go back to Mr. Snowdon's—creep up to my room, if I have a chance, get out a bundle of clothes, and sleep in the barn. In the morning I can start early, and——"

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know yet."

Mr. Snowdon was in the habit of retiring early, and so were his family. Generally at nine o'clock they were in bed. When nine o'clock came he told Septimus to lock the door.

"But suppose Bernard comes back?"

"He can sleep out of doors for one night. It will teach him a lesson."

He didn't know that Bernard had already visited the house, made up a bundle of clothing, and withdrawn to the barn, where he had found a comfortable resting place on one of the lofts of hay.

It was Bernard's intention to get up early in the morning and make his escape before Mr. Snowdon or any of his family were astir.

But a healthy boy, who is a good sleeper, cannot always fix the time of awaking. For some reason Bernard slept on till half-past seven o'clock. Septimus had occasion to go to the barn, and discovered him still asleep. He ran into the house in great excitement.

"Pa," he said, "Bernard is asleep in the barn. I seed him."

Occasionally Septimus, though the son of a teacher, made grammatical mistakes.

"Is he asleep?" asked