The Runaway | Page 2

the sawdust out of my throat; and to have a game of
ball occasionally, to keep my joints limber, for they get stiff leaning
over the work-bench, shoving the jack-plane, and chiseling out
mortices all the week."
"Well, Will, I, too, get very sick of work," replied the younger boy. "I
do not think I ever shall like it. When I am roused up early in the
morning, and go into the shop, and look at the tools, and think that, all
day long, I must stand and pull leather strands, while other boys can go
free, and take their sport, and swim, or fish, or hunt, or play, just as

they please, it makes me feel like running away. Now, here am I, a little
more than fourteen years old; and must I spend seven years in a dirty
shop, with the prospect of hard work all my life? It makes my heart
sick to think of it."
The boys threw themselves upon the ground, under the shade of a large
pine, and, reclining against its trunk, remained some minutes without
uttering a word. At length, William Manton, whose thoughts had
evidently been running in the channel opened by the last remarks of
Rodney, said,
"I have often thought of it."
"Thought of what, Will?"
"Of running away."
"Where could you go? What could you do? How could you live?" were
the quick, eager inquiries of Rodney.
"Three questions at once is worse than the catechism," was the
laughing response; "but, though I never learned the answers out of a
book, yet I have them by heart. I will tell you what I have thought
about the matter. You know Captain Ryan?--he was in our shop last
week, and was telling how he came to be a sailor. He said that his uncle,
with whom he lived when he was a boy, promised him a beating, one
day, for some mischief he had done; and, as he had often felt before
that his lashes were not light, he ran off, went on board a ship as a
cabin-boy, learned to handle sails and ropes, and, after five or six
voyages, was made mate of a ship; and now he is a captain. I have been
thinking about it ever since. Now, if I could get a place in a ship, I
would go in a minute. I am sure travelling over the world must be
pleasanter than spending a life in one place; and pulling a rope is easier
work than pushing a plane."
Rodney sprang up from his reclining posture, looked straight in his
companion's face for a moment, and exclaimed, "That would be
glorious! How I should like to go to London, to Canton, to Holland,

where the old folks came from,--to travel all over the world! But,"--and
he leaned back against the tree again as he spoke,--"but it is of no use to
think about it; mother would not consent, and nobody would help me;
no ship would take me. I suppose I must pull away at the leather all my
life." He spoke bitterly, and leaned his face upon his hands; and,
between his fingers, the tears were seen slowly trickling. In truth, he
had no taste or inclination for the trade to which he was forced. If the
bias of his own mind had been consulted, he might have been contented
in some employment adapted to his nature.
"Bah, Rodney, don't be a baby!" was the jeering expostulation of Will
Manton, when he saw the tears; "crying never got a fellow out of a
scrape. I believe it is easy enough done. If we could only get off to New
York, they say that boys are so much wanted on ships, that the captains
take them without asking many questions."
"Do you think so?"
"Don't you think it is worth a trial?"
"But I should have to leave my mother, and grandmother, and sister,
and all."
"Of course; you would not want to take them with you, would you?"
"But I could not tell them I was going. I should have to steal away
without their knowledge."
"You could write to them when you started."
"I might never see them again."
"You are as likely to live and come back as Captain Ryan was."
"But they would feel so much hurt, if I should run away."
Will Manton curled his lip into a sneer, and said, scornfully, "Why,
Rodney, I didn't think you was so much of a baby. You are a more
faint-hearted chicken than I thought you."

"Well, Will, the thought of it frightens me. I have a good mother and a
good grandmother; and, though they make me learn a trade I hate, yet I
do not think I should dare to run away."