rate it was with a shock of
surprise that he suddenly heard the carrier's voice saying, as the horse
stopped with a jerk:

'There's a crate for you, Mrs. Baddock, returned empty,' and knew that
that crate was not empty, but full--full of boy.

'I'll go and call Joe,' said a voice--Mrs. Baddock's, Quentin supposed,
and slow feet stumped away over stones. Mr. Miles leisurely untied the
tail of the cart, ready to let the crate be taken out.

Quentin spent a paralytic moment. What could he do?

And then, luckily or unluckily, a reckless motor tore past, and the
black horse plunged and Mr. Miles had to go to its head and 'talk
pretty' to it for a minute. And in that minute Quentin lifted the
sacking, and looked out. It was low sunset, and the street was deserted.
He stepped out of the crate, dropped to the ground, and slipped behind a
stout and friendly water-butt that seemed to offer protective shelter.

Joe came, and the crate was taken down.

'You haven't seen nothing of that there runaway boy by chance?' said a
new voice--Joe's no doubt.

'What boy?' said Mr. Miles.

'Run away from school, Salisbury,' said Joe. 'Telegrams far and near, so
they be. Little varmint.'

'I ain't seen no boys, not more'n ordinary,' said Mr. Miles. 'Thick as
flies they be, here, there, and everywhere, drat 'em. Sixpence--Correct.
So long, Joe.'

The cart rattled away. Joe and the crate blundered out of hearing, and
Quentin looked cautiously round the water-butt.

This was an adventure. But he was cooler now than he had been at
starting--his hot anger had died down. He would have been contented, he
could not help feeling, with a less adventurous adventure.

But he was in for it now. He felt, as I suppose people feel when they
jump off cliffs with parachutes, that return was impossible.

Hastily turning his school cap inside out--the only disguise he could
think of, he emerged from the water-butt seclusion and into the street,
trying to look as if there was no reason why he should not be there. He
did not know the village. It was not Lyndhurst. And of course asking the
way was not to be thought of.

There was a piece of sacking lying on the road; it must have dropped
from the carrier's cart. He picked it up and put it over his shoulders.

'A deeper disguise,' he said, and walked on.

He walked steadily for a long, long way as it seemed, and the world got
darker and darker. But he kept on. Surely he must presently come to some