uncommonly reluctant to go back to the society of rough Pat. Like most
boys, he hated work, unless it was of a sort which just suited him; then
he could toil like a beaver and never tire. His wandering life had given
him no habits of steady industry; and, while he was an unusually capable
lad of his age, he dearly loved to "loaf" about and have a good deal of
variety and excitement in his life.

Now he saw nothing before him but days of patient and very uninteresting
labor. He was heartily sick of weeding; even riding Duke before the
cultivator had lost its charms, and a great pile of wood lay in the
Squire's yard which he knew he would be set to piling up in the shed.
Strawberry-picking would soon follow the asparagus cultivation; then
haying; and and so on all the long bright summer, without any fun,
unless his father came for him.

On the other hand, he was not obliged to stay a minute longer unless he
liked. With a comfortable suit of clothes, a dollar in his pocket, and a
row of dinner-baskets hanging in the school-house entry to supply him
with provisions if he didn't mind stealing them, what was easier than to
run away again? Tramping has its charms in fair weather, and Ben had
lived like a gypsy under canvas for years; so he feared nothing, and
began to look down the leafy road with a restless, wistful expression,
as the temptation grew stronger and stronger every minute.

Sancho seemed to share the longing, for he kept running off a little way
and stopping to frisk and bark; then rushed back to sit watching his
master with those intelligent eyes of his, which seemed to say, "Come
on, Ben, let us scamper down this pleasant road and never stop till we
are tired." Swallows darted by, white clouds fled before the balmy west
wind, a squirrel ran along the wall, and all things seemed to echo the
boy's desire to leave toil behind and roam away as care-free as they.
One thing restrained him, the thought of his seeming ingratitude to good
Mrs. Moss, and the disappointment of the little girls at the loss of
their two new play-fellows. While he paused to think of this, something
happened which kept him from doing what he would have been sure to
regret afterward.

Horses had always been his best friends, and one came trotting up to
help him now; though he did not know how much he owed it till long
after. Just in the act of swinging himself over the bars to take a
shortcut across the fields, the sound of approaching hoof