Joe listened very sympathetically.
"'Tis an ill wind blows no one good," he said. "That there barrel
makes a sailor of me; maybe 'tis to make a sojer of you."
"And what of Cyrus Vetch?" I could not help saying.
"Ah! Cyrus Vetch!" muttered Joe, looking troubled. "I be afeared
'twill make him a downright enemy to you, lad. But you'll grow, and
captain will learn you how to ply your fists, and when it comes to
a fight, mind of my fighting name, and punch hard."
Then, having promised to see his mother and do what I could to
console her, I wrung his hand and wished him well, and he climbed
out again by the window, and in the starlight I watched him carry
the ladder across the yard; and then with a final wave of the hand
he vanished into the night.
Chapter 3: I Meet The Mohocks.
At breakfast I said nothing of Joe's midnight visit, reckoning that
it would not be long before the news of his flight got abroad. It
was indeed the subject of a great buzz of talk among my
schoolfellows, who flocked about me as I walked down Castle Street,
demanding to hear the full story from my own lips. I could tell
them nothing that they did not know, save only my leave-taking with
Joe Punchard, which, of course, I had resolved to keep very close.
I learned from them that Cyrus was abed, and like to stay there,
said Mr. Pinhorn, for a week or more. His father was in a desperate
rage, and had sent horsemen along all the roads in pursuit of the
runaway, and I had some fear that my good friend would be caught
and brought back to receive his punishment.
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