t the side of his bed
to say his prayers, which he never omitted. His petition was longer than
usual and I need not tell you what its chief if not its whole burden was.

Despite the depressing weight upon his spirits, Jim fell asleep and
remained so for several hours, though his slumber was tortured by dreams
of his knife. Sometimes it was tiny as a pin and then bigger than
himself, but it always slipped from his grasp when he reached out to
seize it.

Suddenly he awoke. It took a minute or two to recall his situation, but
soon the startling truth came back to him. He had lost his knife, and,
remembering his resolve before going to sleep, he bounded out of bed,
certain that day not only had dawned but that it had been light for some
time. He soon discovered, however, that what he took for the glow of the
rising sun came from the moon, whose vivid illumination made the mistake
natural.

"I never seen it so bright," he said, stepping to the window and peering
out.

And then as if by inspiration he whispered:

"It's the right time to hunt for my knife."

He did not know what time it was nor did he care to know. There was so
much moongleam in his room that he easily dressed without any artificial
light. Then, too, the night was mild and his covering scanty. Shirt and
trousers were his only garments. He left his straw hat where he had
"hung" it on the floor in one corner beside his shoes and stockings. The
chief cause for now going barefoot was that his steps would be lighter,
though as a rule he saved his shoes for Sunday and his trips to and from
the store.

He knew his father was a light sleeper, and if awakened would probably
forbid him to go out before morning. So Jim opened his bedroom door so
softly that not the slightest noise was caused. He went down the stairs
as if he were a real burglar in rubber shoes. He stopped several times
with a faster beating heart, for although he had never known the steps to
squeak before they now did so with such loudness that he was sure his
father heard him. But the snoring continued unbroken and Jim reached the
door, where he stealthily slid back the bolt and reversed the key,
without causing any betraying sound.

This side of the house was in shadow, and he stood for a minute or two on
the small, covered porch looking out upon the highway or main street. Not
a soul was in sight, nor did he see a twinkle of light from any of the
windows. It cannot be said that Jim felt any