“There,” said he, as soon as he had settled his head on the pillow. “Where are you now, Mr. Sam Holmes? I’ve got my money, and you are none the wiser for it. I knew I could outwit you when the time came.” While Gus was waiting to hear from his check he had ample leisure to perfect all his plans, and now nothing remained to be done but to pack his valise with the clothing he had already selected and laid by itself, and go down to the depôt in time to catch the westward-bound train which passed through Foxboro’ at half-past eight in the evening. He was somewhat nervous, for he knew that at the very last moment a thousand things might happen to interfere with his arrangements: but he did not think of the step he was about to take with the least regret. He knew when his father and brother came home at supper time, and heard them when they went out to return to the store. After that his mother brought him up some delicacies that sick people are supposed to relish; but Gus, although he was by this time very hungry, said he didn’t care for anything, and besides he showed so plainly that he didn’t want his mother in his room, that she went down stairs and left him to himself again. There was no fear of interruption after that, and Gus set about completing the preparations for his flight. He quickly packed his valise, put his money carefully away in his pocket, stopped long enough to eat all the supper his mother had brought up to him, then seized his valise and crept down stairs and out of the house. He made his way toward the depôt, avoiding the principal streets as much as he could, and finally reached the railroad about a quarter of a mile above the place where the trains stopped. There was a freight-house opposite the depôt, and toward this Gus now directed his course, intending to wait there in the dark until the train arrived. He could thus avoid the crowd which always gathered about the platform at train time, and by boarding the cars on the side opposite the depôt, he could escape observation. “That’s what I want to do,” said the runaway to himself, as he took his stand in a dark doorway and looked down the track to see if he could discover any signs of the approaching train, “for of course I wouldn’t be very smart if I were to let any of these loafers see me. They would all want to know where I was going, and then when my folks began to make inquiries about me, they would say they had seen me take the train for Chicago. I wouldn’t like to have that known, for there are such things as telegraphs and detectives in this country.” If Gus had only known it, he was putting himself to a great deal of unnecessary trouble. It might have astonished him to know that even if his father had been thoroughly posted in all his plans, he would have made no effort to prevent Gus from carrying them into execution. The boy found this out in due time, and we shall tell about it in its proper place.