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