He did not see his father again until supper-time, and then not a word was said about the lottery. The merchant appeared to be as cheerful as usual, but that did not quiet Tom's feelings, for he knew that the matter was not yet settled. He would have been glad indeed to know what would be done about it, but he could not muster up courage enough to ask his father any questions. He passed that night in much the same manner that he had passed the preceding one, tossing restlessly about on his bed; and when he slept, he was troubled with dreams, in which the Storm King, the proprietors of the lottery, and Bob Jennings bore prominent parts. The next morning he went down to the office as usual—being careful on the way to avoid the principal streets, so that he might not meet any boys of his acquaintance—and there he found his father and Mr. Graves engaged in conversation. The latter seemed to have recovered his usual spirits, for he was laughing at some remark made by the merchant, and he even shook hands with Tom and wished him a hearty good morning. Perhaps the large roll of bank-bills he was just putting into his pocket had something to do with his good, nature! Tom noticed them at once; and he could hardly refrain from shouting with delight, when the thought flashed through his mind that his father had bought the yacht, and was intending to set him up in business as a trader. He soon became convinced that such was the fact; for, as Mr. Graves turned to go, the merchant inquired,
"Is she complete in every particular?"
"Yes, sir!" was the reply. "She is finished alow and aloft, and supplied with every thing she needs, from an anchor down to a marlin spike."
Mr. Graves then took leave of the merchant, and walked off, whistling softly to himself, while Tom sank into a chair and awaited the issue of events with an impatience he did not try to conceal. Mr. Newcombe walked a few times across the office with his eyes fastened on the floor, as if in deep meditation, and then seating himself at his desk, he took out a sheet of note-paper and wrote a long letter. When it was finished he put it into an envelope and handed it to Tom, with the request that he would take it to the military academy.
"O, now, I'm not going to be a trader after all!" thought Tom, as he began to search about the office for his cap. "I just know that I have got to go back to that school! I won't stay there long! I am not going to be shut up for five or six months without a single leave of absence, now I tell you."
When he reached the street he glanced at the letter, and saw that it was addressed to the principal of the academy. This was enough to confirm him in his suspicions, and, while on the way to the school, he thought over several plans for escape, that suggested themselves to his mind. If he should be unfortunate enough to be shut up in the academy again, he knew that it would be something of a task to get out of it; for the students having turned against him, on account of the troubles they had brought upon themselves by taking part in his runaway scheme, he would have no one to assist him. But Tom had great confidence in himself, and he was certain that he could arrange matters to his entire satisfaction. He would fight against it as long as he could; but, if his father was determined that he should go back to the academy, he would, alone and unaided, occasion a greater uproar in the village than had ever been heard there before.
Arriving at the gate, he rang the bell, handed the letter to the guard, who answered the summons, and then slowly retraced his steps toward the office. He had not gone far when he met his friend Johnny Harding.
"Good morning, captain!" said Johnny, taking off his cap, and making a very low bow; "I hope you are well!"
"O, now, look here!" drawled Tom. "I want you to quit calling me captain!"