Lon roused himself, and came to the conclusion that he would anchor the boat, and then go to sleep in the cuddy. He ran the “Mud-turtle” up to the side of the river, and lowered the sail. Then he let go the anchor. He tied up the sail, and fastened the cable, as he had seen a boatman do it, and then went into the cuddy. He felt about till he found a place not occupied by Matt, which was big enough for him to stretch himself out, and lay down. His feet were but a few inches from those of Wade; but he had no suspicion that the cuddy contained three persons. In a moment he was asleep, for the case was more desperate with him than it had been with Matt. All on board were asleep. They all slept like tops till daylight in the morning, when Wade Brooks was the first to wake, as he had been the first to go to sleep: besides, this was his usual time to wake, and to get up. He missed the usual savage call of the farmer or his wife, and on this particular occasion he was not informed that he was a “lazy fellow.” When he woke there was light enough in the cuddy for him to see that his companions were both sleeping very soundly. One of them was on each side of the door; but there was space enough between them for him to get out of the cuddy. With the greatest care Wade passed out of the place into the standing-room. If Wade had any doubts before as to who had set the barn on fire, he had none now. The bad boys had run away by the light of the fire they had kindled: they had run away. It was for this trip that Matt had stolen the money from his father; and no doubt he had it in his pocket at that moment. Wade sat down near the door of the cuddy, where he could see both of the sleeping conspirators against the peace of the town of Midhampton. He felt that Lon would pitch into him as soon as he woke; and he had made up his mind that he would not stand his abuse any longer. He was no longer in Midhampton--at least, he supposed he was not, but he could not tell where he was,--and Swikes could no longer pound him for what he did. He had made up his mind to fight, instead of allowing Lon and Matt to kick and beat him about as they had been in the habit of doing. When he had reached this conclusion, he felt better. In the bottom of the boat he found a piece of a birch fish-pole, about half an inch in diameter, which he trimmed into shape for a club. He made it about two feet and a half long, and, for the want of something better to do, he whittled away at it for an hour or more: but he was thinking all the time how he should meet his tyrant; for such he had always been to him, and Matt was no better. If there were to be any more “broken heads,” they should be more equally distributed than formerly.