A thought came into his mind so suddenly that it brought him up on his elbow. Charlie should help him to escape! He would take the horse home where he belonged. They would go back to the old home together.
Joe lay back for a moment, almost breathless with his scheme. Then, cautiously laying his quilt aside, he rose, put on his jacket, hat, and shoes, and climbed softly up the steep cabin-stairs to the deck.
The rain had ceased at last, and low in the west a half-moon was struggling through the mist of clouds.
For a moment Joe listened. No sound came from the sleepers in the cabin. Then he leaped lightly to the tow-path. It was not far to the stable where the horses and mules were kept, and he lost no time in going there.
As he opened the door and peered into the darkness of the stable, the heavy breathing of the sleeping animals came strangely on his ears.
In a near stall, a dim, white shape struggled up and was still. It was Old Charlie. He recognized his young master with a subdued neigh, and tossed his head impatiently.
The next moment Joe had untied him, and led him out into the night.
“We’ve got a long ride before us, Charlie,” he said, standing for a moment at the stable door to transform the halter strap into driving reins. “It’s a long ride; but then, you know, we’re going—we’re going home!”