Kid dropped the note with a scowl and took up the book. The title, “Sally Lund’s Christmas Party,” didn’t impress him at all favorably, nor did a hurried perusal of the first page, the twenty-fifth page and the last page better his first impression. And the pictures were only mildly interesting. It was palpably a girl’s story, and Kid never could stand girl’s stories. He wished, as he discarded Nan’s offering, that he could get hold of “Hairbreadth Harry” without painful effort. Whereupon the appalling knowledge flashed upon him that “Hairbreadth Harry” was reposing between the leaves of the fifth volume of the Encyclopedia Britannica in the hall library! In the excitement of disposing of Tinkham’s Throat-Ease he had quite forgotten the story-paper! Well, he was already a criminal and one more crime would matter but little. Besides, he would be far, far away by the time “Hairbreadth Harry” came to light. Nevertheless he decided to ask Stanley to rescue him if possible. Later, when he had an address Stanley could mail the story-paper to him. He disliked the thought of going through life without ever knowing just how the hero extricated himself from the embarrassing situation in which he had left him.
He’d be sorry to leave Stanley, too. Stanley had always been mighty nice to him. And he’d be sorry to leave old Lanny, as well; and Small and Bert and Nan. Nan was a real good sort for a girl. She had ought to have been a boy by rights. And—and, why, yes, strange as it seemed, he was absolutely affected by the thought of leaving the school! He had had some pretty good times since September and had grown more fond of the place than he had ever realized before. Well, life was doubtless full of partings, and regrets were idle. To-day he was to put aside childish things and face the World. Therefore he resolutely winked back the tears that had begun to leak around the corners of his eyes and told himself sternly to “be a man, Kid!”
He listened for sounds from below. They were having arithmetic now, Bert and Lanny and Small and Nan. Then came history. Kid was glad he was where he was, for his lessons were not well prepared to-day. On Saturday Mr. Folsom had been very lenient with him, having learned of his trouble, but Kid shuddered to think what it would have been like to-day down there! The morning passed laggingly but not uninterestingly. He had much to think of. Of course, the place to strike for would be the Hudson River, for, although it lay almost forty miles north and east, it seemed likely that he might find passage on a steamer to New York. Even a canal boat might do. Once in New York, being careful to avoid the vicinity of his home, he would make for the docks. He wondered whether cabin boys received any wages. Or did they just serve for the experience? At all events, he knew that by shipping as a cabin-boy he would be starting in the approved manner, for he vividly recalled a book entitled, “From Cabin Boy to Captain,” which dealt with the fortunes of a fellow who, like he, had run away from school. The only thing that caused Kid to hesitate about adopting the seafaring life was the fact that he was usually seasick on the very slightest provocation. However, he had heard it said that you get over that in time, and probably by the time the ship reached Singapore—he hoped it would go to Singapore, for that place had always fascinated him—he would be a hardened old salt. He wished that it were possible for him to sneak into the house in New York long enough to secure “From Cabin Boy to Captain” and “The Boy’s Book of Sailing,” each of which, he thought, would be a great aid to him at the start of his nautical career.
Along toward twelve o’clock he felt considerably better, having dutifully taken his medicine every half hour—when he had thought of it. He was able to sit up and even move around without that sinking feeling in his insides and without his head being dizzy. So he reached the table and got paper and pencil. He had decided to leave a note of farewell in which he would forgive everyone and ask them to judge him as leniently as possible. But after four attempts he gave it up. What he finally did write was only this:
Dear Stanley: Please look in the Encyclopeda Britancus and get the story I left there Friday about Hairbreadth Harry. I don’t want the Doc to find it. I am going away forever. Some day I will send you my address which will likely be Singapore and you can send me the story. And if you want me to I will send back that quarter after I have made some money, but don’t expect it too soon for I will probably have a hard struggle for a while all by myself. Maybe by that time you won’t want it. Tell the other fellows the same, only after all a quarter isn’t very much. Wish you were coming along with me, Stanley. You and I have always gotten along mighty well, haven’t we? I will stop now with best wishes for your happiness.
J. F.
Kid tucked the note between the leaves of the book which he knew Stanley to be reading in his leisure moments and crawled back into bed just in time. Mrs. Merton entered with a bowl of chicken broth and some very dry toast. Kid was hungry and the broth tasted very well. Also the toast, but he did wish there had been butter on it. After Mrs. Merton had gone again he half wished that Stanley would come up. But he didn’t. And after a while the fellows went in to dinner and the time for action had come. Kid dressed as quietly as possible so that no one underneath would hear him moving around and suspect anything. He would like to have put on his best clothes, but commonsense told him that he would stand a much better chance of being engaged as cabin-boy if he wasn’t too well dressed. A few small belongings he tucked in his pockets, deciding to be burdened with no baggage. An old red sweater went on over his waistcoat and his ulster he hung over his arm. A last look about the room, with a sort of choking sensation deep down in his throat and a mistiness in his eyes, and he went out quietly, closing the door behind him and stole down the front stairs. From the dining-room came the cheerful clatter of dishes and the hum of voices. Kid’s courage almost deserted him then and he hesitated on the landing, invisible hands seeming to drag him back toward the security and warmth of his bed. But with something that sounded suspiciously like a sob, Kid trampled upon his weakness, dodged across the hall until out of sight of the diners and so gained the front door.
He took a last glance about the place and his gaze fell on the bookcases along the wall. “Hairbreadth Harry!” Why not rescue him now? But even as Kid took the first step toward the books a chair scraped in the dining room and in a panic Kid pulled open the front door and passed out into the cold world.