I
heard my own story told in that house at least fifty times, and in
fifty different ways.
At last, when I thought it was safe, one night my host harnessed up
his horses and carried me some miles on my way to Concord. He drove
as far as he dared, for he wanted to get back home by daylight, so
that his expedition might excite no suspicion. Twenty miles away
from Keene he set me down in the road, and, bidding him "good-bye,"
I began my march toward Concord. When I arrived there, almost the
first man I saw in the street was a doctor from Keene. I did not
think he saw me, but he did, as I soon found out, for while I was
waiting at the depot to take the cars to the north, I was arrested.
The Keene doctor owed me a grudge for interfering, as he deemed it;
with his regular practice, and the moment he saw me he put an
officer on my trail. I thought it was safe here to take the cars,
for I was footsore and weary, nor did I get away from Keene as fast
and as far as I wanted to. I should have succeeded but for that
doctor.
When the officer brought me before a justice, the doctor was a
willing witness to declare that I was a fugitive from justice, and
he stated the circumstances of my escape. So I was sent back to
Keene under charge of the very officer who arrested me at the depot.
I would not give this officer's name if I could remember it, but he
was a fine fellow, and was exceedingly impressible. For instance, on
our arrival at Keene, he allowed me to go to the hotel and pack my
trunk to be forwarded to Meredith Bridge by express.
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