Gliding out of the culvert, he swam to the right bank of the race, which was there built up five or six feet from the ground, crawled over it, dropped down under it, and ran along beside it till he reached the mill. He heard the shrill shriek of filing saws as he passed, and knew that the sawyer was busy. Dodging between great piles of slabs and lumber, he kept on, and soon gained the shelter of a fringe of alders that bordered the onward-flowing mill-stream. That led him into a swampy piece of woods. And so it happened that, by the time Sellick and his companions scrambled from the deck of the wheat-boat upon the bridge at the Basin, and turned back to the culvert, the fugitive was nearly a mile away.
Traversing the swamp, Jack crossed several fields and a wood-lot, and at length came out upon a recent clearing, in which a number of half-burnt stumps and log-heaps were smoking. Beyond that was a road; and on the farther side of the road was a cornfield.
“That’s the place to hide!” thought Jack; and having stopped to drink at a little spring, he crossed the road, and was soon gliding between rows of tasselled stalks and long green rustling leaves.
The piece was wet, and a part of the crop was late, and Jack observed with interest a number of good roasting ears. Being a prudent youth, he had already begun to question where his next meal was to be obtained; for although he had a little money, he had no hat, and feared to present himself anywhere bareheaded.
“I’ll help myself, as the coons and squirrels do,” said he, as he noticed the ravages of those destructive little beasts all about the field. “Hello! here’s something interesting!”
It was a scarecrow of stuffed clothes, from which a flock of noisy blackbirds flew up at his approach.
“That’s a pretty good felt hat,” said he; “wonder how it would fit _me_. Excuse me, old fellow; I need it more than you do; I’ll bring it back when I get through with it. In the mean while the blackbirds can’t respect you any less than they do now, I know!”
He pulled off the hat, gave it a good beating on the scarecrow’s outstretched wooden hand, and found that, by stuffing a few corn-husks under the lining, he could make it do very well.
“Thank you,” said he. “Now I feel as if I had traded myself off for another boy. If you’ve no objections, I think I’ll keep you company a little while. Poor company’s better than none, as they say. Oblige me by holding my coat till it dries a little.”