“It is easier to ride than it is to walk,” he often said to himself. “Lester doesn’t need the money, and I do, for I don’t know what I shall have to go through with before I can find a vessel. Oxford is a small place, and I may have to stay there a week or two before I can secure a berth, and how could I live all that time without money? I am not going to steal it—I shall borrow it, for, of course, my father will refund every cent of it. I know he will not like to do it, but he ought to have let me go to sea when I asked him.”
After reasoning with himself in this way a few times, Huggins finally mustered up courage enough to make himself the possessor of the coveted pocket-book. Unfortunately, opportunities were not wanting. Lester was hardly ever in his room during the day-time, and it was an easy matter for Huggins to lock the door and break open the trunk with the aid of a spike he had picked up in the carpenter-shop. Then he bundled up some of his clothes, intending to ask for a pass and leave the academy at once. He got the pass, as we know, but found, to his great surprise and alarm, that he could not use it until after supper. It was no wonder that he showed nervousness and anxiety when Jones and the rest offered to lend him money to help him along. If he had not succeeded in satisfying them that he would not accept assistance from them, and Lester had gone to his trunk after the dollar, there would have been trouble directly. He escaped this danger, however, and as soon as he could use his pass, he made all haste to get out of Bridgeport.
“But I’ll not go to Oxford yet,” said he, when he found himself safe on board the cars. “The fellows said they wouldn’t tell where I intended to go, but when they made that promise they didn’t know that I had borrowed Brigham’s money.”
Just then the conductor tapped him on the shoulder and held out his hand for the boy’s ticket.
“What is the fare to the next station?” asked the latter.
“One twenty-five,” was the answer.
Huggins produced the money, and then buttoned his overcoat, settled back into an easy position on his seat, and tried to make up his mind what he should do next. Before he had come to any decision on this point, the whistle blew again, and the train came to a stop; whereupon Huggins picked up his bundle, which he had carried under his coat when he deserted the academy, and left the car. The few men he saw upon the platform were running about as if they were very busy—all except one, who strolled around with his hands in his pockets. Huggins drew back out of the glare of the lamps that were shining from the windows of the depot, to wait for an opportunity to speak to him. He had got off at a tank-station, but he did not find it out until it was too late to go farther.
Having taken on a fresh supply of coal and water the engine moved off, dragging its long train of sleeping-cars behind it, the station agent went into his office, closing the door behind him, and Huggins and the unemployed stranger were left alone on the platform.