As he drew near the house, he saw that there was something unusual about it. With a sick feeling, he realized that it looked even more vacant and dejected than ordinarily. He tried the front door; found it locked; sped to the rear; was unable to enter; and then, rushing to the stable, realized the whole truth. His family had gone. They had run away in the night. The whole thing was true. His father was a thief—and now he was making of himself a fugitive.
But the feeling of having come back to fight a battle as a brave man would fight it, did not desert him. The black despair of the night before had been routed by all the better angels of his nature. He was in the thick of the battle now, beyond question. He turned his back on the house and went toward the town.
On his way, he met Hi Kitchell, who had been excused from school because of a toothache, and who was running along, his hand to his face, quite willing to talk about his misery to anyone. Sam called him.
“Hello, Hi. Toothache?”
“You bet!”
“What you going home for? Why don’t you go to a dentist?”
“Naw. I’m going home.”
“No use in that. Turn around the other way. Come on down to the dentist’s.”
Hi wriggled. “I’m afraid.”
“I’ll go with you.”