Then he got into Martin's bed, and muttered and grumbled himself to
sleep. Martin came out from under the table, and after dressing
himself with great secrecy crept to the door to make his escape. It
was locked and the key taken away. But he was determined to make his
escape somehow, and not wait to be whipped; so, by and by, he drew
the little deal table close against the wall, and getting on to it
began picking the rushes one by one out of the lower part of the
thatch. After working for half-an-hour, like a mouse eating his way
out of a soft wooden box, he began to see the light coming through
the hole, and in another half hour it was large enough for him to
creep through. When he had got out, he slipped down to the ground,
where the dogs were lying. They seemed very glad to see him, and
began pressing round to lick his face; but he pushed them off, and
ran away over the plain as fast as he could. The stars were shining,
but it was very dark and silent; only in moist places, where the
grass grew tall, he heard the crickets strumming sadly on their
little harps.

At length, tired with running, he coiled himself in a large tussock
of dry grass and went to sleep, just as if he had been accustomed to
sleep out of doors all his life.




CHAPTER V


THE PEOPLE OF THE MIRAGE