and paused a moment to peer into
a small shoe-shop.

It was only a momentary glance, but a hammer ceased tapping upon a
lapstone, and a tall man straightened up suddenly and very straight, as
he untied his leather apron.

"That's the fellow!" he exclaimed under his breath, but Jack heard him.

"He knew me! He knew me! I can't stay in Mertonville!" thought Jack.
"There'll be trouble now."

He started at a run, but it was so early that he attracted little
attention.

His return to the _Eagle_ office was so quick that Mr. Black opened his
eyes in surprise.

"I've got to see Mr. Murdoch," Jack said hurriedly, and up-stairs he
darted, to break right in upon the conference between the editors.

Jack told his story, and Mr. Murdoch felt it was only another blow
added to the many already fallen upon him and his _Eagle_. "Perhaps
you will be better satisfied to leave town," said Mr. Murdoch, uneasily.

"I've enough money to take me to the city, and I'll go. I'm off for
New York!" said Jack, eagerly.

"New York?" exclaimed Mr. Murdoch. "That's the thing! Go to the house
and get ready. I'll buy you a ticket to Albany, and you can go down on
the night boat. They're taking passengers for half a dollar. You
mustn't be caught! No doubt they are hunting for you now."

Mr. Murdoch was right. At that very moment the cobbler was in the
grocery kept by Deacon Abrams, shouting, "We've got him again, Deacon!
He's in town. He works in a paint shop--had paint on his face. Or
else he's a blacksmith, or he works in coal, or something black--or
dusty. We can run him down now."

While they went for the two others who knew Jack's face, he was putting
on his Sunday clothes and packing up. When he came down, there was no
ink upon his face, his collar was clean, his hair was brushed, and he
was a complete surprise to Mr. Black and the rest.

"I can get a new boy," said Mr. Murdoch, as if he were beginning to
recover his spirits; "and I can run the engine myself now I'm well. I
can say in the next _Eagle_ that you are gone to the city, and that
will help me out of my troubles."

Neither Jack nor Mary quite understood what he meant, and, in fact,
they were not thinking about him just then. Mr. Murdoch had said that
there was only time to catch the express-train, and they were saying
good-by. Mary was crying for the moment, and Jack was telling her what
to write to his mother and father and those at home in Crofield.