In fact, he probably would not return from the village till nine o’clock or later, and this was an additional reason why he put it off. His absence made it easier for Bill to carry out the plan which had been formed for him by his trusty friend, Dick Schmidt, and escape from the house. He accomplished his escape unnoticed about half-past eight o’clock. Dick was waiting for him behind the barn. He had been a little afraid that Bill would repent the promise he had made and back out. When he saw him he welcomed him gladly. “I was afraid you wouldn’t dare to come, Bill,” he said. “I shan’t be any worse off,” said the bound boy. “Mr. Badger was going to give me a flogging, anyway, and he can’t do any more than that as it is.” “What an old brute he is!” exclaimed Dick. “He isn’t as bad as his wife or Andrew Jackson.” “That’s so! Andrew is a mean boy. I’m glad you hit him.” “I am sorry, Dick.” “Don’t you think he deserved it?” “Yes, but I don’t like to be the one to do it.” “I wouldn’t mind it,” said Dick, “but he’s precious careful not to get into any muss with me.” “You’re not bound to Mr. Badger.” “If I were, he wouldn’t dare to order me round. Catch him bulldozing me!” “You’re more plucky than I am, Dick.” “You’re too good-natured, Bill--that’s what’s the matter with you.” “I hate fighting, Dick.” “What did Andrew say to you when you came home from work?” “He wanted me to go down on my knees and beg his pardon for hitting him.” “Why didn’t you knock him down?” said Dick quickly. “I told him I’d do it----” _“What!”_ exclaimed Dick Schmidt in the deepest disgust. “If he’d beg my pardon first for striking me with a whip.” “That’s better. I thought you wouldn’t be so much of a coward as to beg his pardon.” “He didn’t accept the offer,” said Bill, smiling. “No, I suppose not. Was he mad?” “He looked as if he was. He called me a saucy beggar and threatened to tell his father.” “I’ve no doubt he will. He’s just mean enough to do that. I say. Bill, it’s a pity you don’t work for my father.” “I wish I did, Dick, but perhaps you’d boss me, too.” “Not much danger. We’d be like brothers.” While this conversation was going on the two boys were walking across the fields to Mr. Schmidt’s farm. The distance was not great, and by this time they were at the back door. As they went in Bill’s eyes glistened as he saw a nice supper laid on the kitchen table, waiting for him, for Dick had told his mother of the guest he expected. He decided to say nothing of the circumstances that led to the invitation. He might safely have done so, however, for Mrs. Schmidt was a good, motherly woman, who pitied the boy and understood very well that his position in Mr. Badger’s family must be a very disagreeable one. “I am glad to see you, William,” she said. “Sit right down and eat supper. I’ve got a hot cup of tea for you.” “I’ll sit down, too, mother. I only ate a little supper, for I wanted to keep Bill company.”