Harry was maddened: he longed to find some one to hit, but the darkness prevented that. He heard suppressed voices laughing at him, but could see not a sign of any one; the bedclothes entangled his movements; he was wet with the sponges and bruised from the boots. What could he do? Where could he find help? "Not at school, not at school," he said to himself. "If I tell, I shan't be believed;" and then the idea came across him--"I'll run away." The thought was no sooner in his head, than his mind was firmly resolved. Yes, he would run away from this horrid place; anywhere, anywhere, rather than stay here. CHAPTER XIII. FLIGHT. In the passage--Past the last door--Somebody coming--Across the lawn--A footstep--The doctor! As luck would have it, Harry's bed was near the door. If he could but get out of the dormitory unobserved by the boys, that would be at least one rung mounted on the ladder of escape. He was fully dressed, his boots only being unlaced. So taking them off, he crept towards the door, and waiting cautiously, hidden by the now-welcome darkness, till a fresh noisy onset was made by his assailants on the bed where they supposed him to be, he stealthily lifted the latch and stood on the stairs. He was not long creeping down to the first landing--a narrow carpeted passage, full of numerous doors, and terminating in a window which looked over a shed where the boots and knives, etc., were cleaned. The stairs which led below, joined those of No. 7 dormitory at one end of the passage, exactly opposite to the window, the distance from the window to the stairs being about ten yards. When Harry left his room he had not the least notion how he was going to accomplish his purpose. He had only a vague idea that he was running away; and it was not till he alighted at the end of the passage mentioned, and saw from the other end the moonlight streaming in through the curtainless window, that it entered his head that there he might find means of escape. So he stole cautiously along the passage, nervous, excited, fearing lest he should disturb any of the sleepers in the various rooms he passed. The whole place was so still, he could almost hear his heart thumping. The only thing besides that stirred the silence was the subdued monotonous snoring from the rooms. A waft of fresh summer night-air made his heart leap with delight and eagerness. The window was open. The rest seemed easy.