Traversing the swamp, Jack crossed several fields and a wood-lot, and at length came out upon a recent clearing, in which a number of half-burnt stumps and log-heaps were smoking. Beyond that was a road; and on the farther side of the road was a cornfield.
“That’s the place to hide!” thought Jack; and having stopped to drink at a little spring, he crossed the road, and was soon gliding between rows of tasselled stalks and long green rustling leaves.
The piece was wet, and a part of the crop was late, and Jack observed with interest a number of good roasting ears. Being a prudent youth, he had already begun to question where his next meal was to be obtained; for although he had a little money, he had no hat, and feared to present himself anywhere bareheaded.
“I’ll help myself, as the coons and squirrels do,” said he, as he noticed the ravages of those destructive little beasts all about the field. “Hello! here’s something interesting!”
It was a scarecrow of stuffed clothes, from which a flock of noisy blackbirds flew up at his approach.
“That’s a pretty good felt hat,” said he; “wonder how it would fit me. Excuse me, old fellow; I need it more than you do; I’ll bring it back when I get through with it. In the mean while the blackbirds can’t respect you any less than they do now, I know!”
He pulled off the hat, gave it a good beating on the scarecrow’s outstretched wooden hand, and found that, by stuffing a few corn-husks under the lining, he could make it do very well.
“Thank you,” said he. “Now I feel as if I had traded myself off for another boy. If you’ve no objections, I think I’ll keep you company a little while. Poor company’s better than none, as they say. Oblige me by holding my coat till it dries a little.”
He hung his wet garment on the scarecrow, and walked leisurely about, selecting a few of the best roasting ears he could find. His breakfast had really amounted to nothing,—good Mrs. Pipkin’s biscuit and butter having been sacrificed with the milk he bought of the grocer,—and he was growing faint.
The excitement of his escape had left him in good spirits. For a while he was buoyed up by a wild feeling of freedom; and his old love of adventure came back upon him. The wrongs he had suffered made him reckless and defiant of the whole world.