Then Myles listened at the door. The men were still talking. Why not walk boldly out and announce his intended departure? No, that would never do. They might take it into their heads to stop him, and they were three to one.
The sound of moving chairs sent him flying back to the bed, where, to all appearances, he was instantly fast asleep.
“Well, Bill, it’s time for us to be off,” said one of the men. “Trot out your stuff and let us make a start.”
“There isn’t another drop in the house,” answered Bill, “and I reckon you’ll have to go up to the still with me and get it.”
“All right; but you’d better take a look at that young feller in the other room first.”
Bill looked in, and a single glance satisfied him that his guest was as oblivious of his surroundings as before.
“It’s all right,” he said. “He’s good to sleep till sun-up, and I’ll leave Tige to watch him. That dog won’t let any one leave the house any more than he’d let ’em get in when I ain’t round. He’s a bully old bull-dog, Tige is, and no one don’t want to trifle with his affections.”
Then the three men, taking a lantern with them, left the cabin, and Myles listened until their voices died away in the distance. Tige had been ordered to stay behind, and he obeyed orders. Myles went to the open window, and the bull-dog growled at him. He went to the door, and found Tige already watching in front of it. Here was a pretty fix: caged by a dog, and so much depending upon his liberty! Myles had a great mind to rush out and fight the dog, but he did not at all fancy the undertaking, nor was he at all certain how such a fight would result.
“If it were only a man,” he thought, “I’d risk it quick enough.”
All at once a bright thought flashed into his mind. Dogs were always hungry. Part of his supper had been cut from a large ham that hung by the fireplace. Striking a match, he easily found it. He took it to the back window. Tige was there. The next moment the ham had been flung in the direction of his growl, and he was worrying it.
Then, still in his stocking feet, with his shoes in his hand, the reporter stole softly to the front-door which he had left unlatched, and slipped out into the darkness. For five minutes he hardly dared breathe, as he cautiously felt his way among the rocks and stumps. At the end of that time he found a sort of road leading in the direction he wished to take. After overcoming many difficulties he reached the railroad. Two hours later he was once more at Mountain Junction, having safely passed three bridges by crawling on his hands and knees over the railway-ties.