A few seconds later, Tom heard Alf's voice in the yard: "He's got away. Get horses! If we only had a pack of dogs...." The noise in the corridor ceased, and the men clumped down the stairs, leading Wilson and Shadrack with them. The sound of voices in the yard grew indistinct and far away. Tom began quietly to investigate his new room. It was on the corner of the house, and there were two windows--the one through which Tom had entered, and another which looked out to the rear. He felt his way along the wall and came to a wash-stand and a chair. He took the chair and wedged it silently under the door-knob; then stole across to the rear window. It was black dark outside. After a few minutes, he raised the window and listened. Men were yelling in the distance. Apparently they were starting on a wild night chase in the hopes of finding him on the road. "If you had more sense and less energy, Alf," muttered Tom, "you might get me." The vision of Andrews' calmness during the raid flashed across his mind. "Let them get excited," he said to himself; "you keep your wits." Then he heard the Judge's voice, booming in front of the hotel: "Tell them to get that wagon around here in a hurry--we'll get these two engine stealers started for Chattanooga, and hunt down the other one when it's light." Tom left the window and snatched up the bedclothes, knotted the blankets together and tied them around the leg of the bed. They would shorten his drop to a few feet, so that the noise would not be heard above the general commotion. Then he waited until he heard the wagon creak up before the hotel and stop. The crowd followed the prisoners and their guards out to watch the departure. Tom opened the window and tossed the blankets down; then he squirmed to the sill, clutched the blankets with his hands and knees, and slid. He dropped to the ground noiselessly, and stood for a moment scanning the yard for obstacles. Thirty or forty yards ahead of him there was a row of bushes which led into the woods south of the village. That would be the best way, he decided. Then he changed his mind, for it was too obviously the best way--others would think of it too, and look for him there. To the bushes, then, and across the road to the north at the first opportunity. He took off his shoes, tied them together through a button-hole so that he could not drop them, and raced, crouching, across the open space. In the bushes, he stopped and listened. The crowd was yelling and talking in front of the hotel. Regardless of the stones and twigs which cut into his feet, he pressed on through the bushes as rapidly as he dared, skirting the yard and avoiding the woods which lay to his left. A dog yipped frantically, and Tom stopped; then he decided that the dog was aimlessly sharing in the excitement, and went forward again.