's eyes were green with
excitement, foam rose from his bruised throat, his tail beat a tattoo on
the dried dust.

First the boy attempted to unfasten the collar, but the leather was
stiff, the buckle rusty. Then he tried to press the spring in. Once,
like a dumpy animal, he crawled away. But he came back with a brickbat
and hammered like a blacksmith at the spring. Then he bent over, caught
the fastening savagely in his teeth, and gritted down. A sobbing intake
of breath announced failure.

Time, precious time, was passing. People somewhere in the house were
growing restless. The dog felt his self-control slipping in a mad desire
to plunge at the chain. He started to rise, but the boy caught him
angrily by the ear and jerked his head back into place. Chairs were
pushed back in the living room. Down the back steps came a rapid,
clumsy, heavy tread. Then the loud, coarse voice of the cook.

"Tommee--Tommee! I wonder whar dat chile gone to!"

The front door opened with a burst of voices. Enemies of freedom were
closing in from every side. Freedom and slavery hung in the crimson
pressing thumb. The cook's voice burst raucously--she was peering with
rolling eyes underneath the house.

"Lawsy, Mr. Steve! Dat chile turnin' dat dawg loose!"

The fastening clicked. The boy gasped, the dog sprang up. No chain
jerked him back. He leaped past the cook, who held her wide skirts out
as if to catch him in a net. He heard Earle call. He heard Lancaster
laugh. The field flew under him, the woods drew near. Long after he had
reached them he galloped on and on.

In the afternoon he returned to the edge of the woods. He saw Earle come
down the back steps, peer into the box, and shake his head at Marian,
who stood on the back porch. Then Earle walked round to the old south
chimney in the sun and knocked out his pipe, straightened up, and
called. A fine figure of a man--his call carried command in every tone!
To resist the overwhelming impulse toward obedience, the dog sank to the
ground, his tail shaking the leaves, his eyes bright with worship of
yonder man--and with a glint of humour in them, too. Did they think he
would twice walk into the same trap!

But as the shadows climbed the hill toward the house his gaunt stomach,
no less than his heart, longed to cross that intervening field. The west
windows flamed with the sunset, as if the whole interior were a mass of
silent fire. Smoke rose from the kitchen chimney, and on the cold