me again?"

"I went home again, sir, that very night--I slept on the hill-side. What
other home had I? In a day or two's time I drifted back to the large
towns and the bad company, the great open country was so lonely to me,
now I had lost the dogs! Two sailors picked me up next. I was a handy
lad, and I got a cabin-boy's berth on board a coasting-vessel. A
cabin-boy's berth means dirt to live in, offal to eat, a man's work on
a boy's shoulders, and the rope's-end at regular intervals. The vessel
touched at a port in the Hebrides. I was as ungrateful as usual to my
best benefactors; I ran away again. Some women found me, half dead of
starvation, in the northern wilds of the Isle of Skye. It was near the
coast and I took a turn with the fishermen next. There was less of the
rope's-end among my new masters; but plenty of exposure to wind and
weather, and hard work enough to have killed a boy who was not a
seasoned tramp like me. I fought through it till the winter came, and
then the fishermen turned me adrift again. I don't blame them; food was
scarce, and mouths were many. With famine staring the whole community in
the face, why should they keep a boy who didn't belong to them? A great
city was my only chance in the winter-time; so I went to Glasgow, and
all but stepped into the lion's mouth as soon as I got there. I was
minding an empty cart on the Broomielaw, when I heard my stepfather's
voice on the pavement side of the horse by which I was standing. He had
met some person whom he knew, and, to my terror and surprise, they
were talking about me. Hidden behind the horse, I heard enough of their
conversation to know that I had narrowly escaped discovery before I
went on board the coasting-vessel. I had met at that time with another
vagabond boy of my own age; we had quarreled and parted. The day after,
my stepfather's inquiries were made in that very district, and it became
a question with him (a good personal description being unattainable in
either case) which of the two boys he should follow. One of them, he was
informed, was known as "Brown," and the other as "Midwinter." Brown was
just the common name which a cunning runaway boy would be most likely
to assume; Midwinter, just the remarkable name which he would be most
likely to avoid. The pursuit had accordingly followed Brown, and had
allowed me to escape. I leave you to imagine whether I was not doubly
and trebly determined to keep my gypsy master's name after tha