"I'm goin' for him," said her husband. "Go downstairs, Meg, and I'll foller."
"You'd better wait till mornin', Jack," said his wife.
"You're a fool!" he said, unceremoniously. "If I wait till daylight, he'll be out of the woods, and I can't catch him."
"There isn't much chance now. It's dark, and you won't be likely to find him."
"I'll risk that. Anyhow, I'm goin' and so you needn't say any more about it."
Jack descended to the room below, put on his boots and hat, and, opening the outer door, sallied out into the darkness.
He paused before the door in uncertainty.
"I wish I knowed which way he went," he muttered.
There seemed little to determine the choice of direction on the part of the fugitive. There was no regular path, as Jack and his wife were the only dwellers in the forest who had occasion to use one, except such as occasionally strayed in from the outer world. There was, indeed, a path slightly marked, but this Walter could not see in the darkness. Nevertheless, as chance would have it, he struck into it and followed it for some distance.