l be awful hungry
when I get there. I wish I could wait till after breakfast; but it
won't do."

Sam was not usually awake at four. Indeed he generally depended on
being waked up by the deacon knocking on his door. But when boys or
men have some pleasure in view it is apt to act upon the mind even
when wrapped in slumber, and produce wakefulness. So Sam woke up about
quarter of four. His plan flashed upon him, and he jumped out of bed.
He dressed quickly, and, taking his shoes in his hand so that he might
make no noise, he crept downstairs, and unlocked the front door, and
then, after shutting it behind him, sat down on the front door-stone
and put on his shoes.

"I guess they didn't hear me," he said to himself. "Now I'll be
going."

The sun had not risen, but it was light with the gray light which
precedes dawn. There was every promise of a fine day, and this helped
to raise Sam's spirits.

"What'll the deacon say when he comes to wake me up?" thought our
hero, though I am almost ashamed to give Sam such a name, for I am
afraid he is acting in a manner very unlike the well-behaved heroes of
most juvenile stories, my own among the number. However, since I have
chosen to write about a "young outlaw," I must describe him as he is,
and warn my boy readers that I by no means recommend them to pattern
after him.

Before accompanying Sam on his travels, let us see how the deacon was
affected by his flight.

At five o'clock he went up to Sam's door and knocked.

There was no answer.

The deacon knocked louder.

Still there was no answer.

"How sound the boy sleeps!" muttered the old man, and he applied his
knuckles vigorously to the door. Still without effect. Thereupon he
tried the door, and found that it was unlocked. He opened it, and
walked to the bed, not doubting that he would see Sam fast asleep. But
a surprise awaited him. The bed was empty, though it had evidently
been occupied during the night.

"Bless my soul! the boy's up," ejaculated the deacon.

A wild idea came to him that Sam had voluntarily got up at this early
hour, and gone to work, but he dismissed it at once as absurd. He knew
Sam far too well for that.

Why, then, had he got up? Perhaps he was unwell, and could not sleep.
Not dreaming of his running away, this seemed to the deacon the most
plausible way of accounting for Sam's disappearance, but he decided to
go down and communicate the news to his wife.

"Why were you gone so long,