He had fled from the comforts of an easy life, where he had been fed, clothed and trusted.

Not for a moment would he have gone back--but why had he run away?
What message that soaring hawk had sent to him from his swift circling sweep overhead he was not able to put in words even if he had so desired.

"That wicked hawk done it!" he said aloud.
At last, hearing steps outside, he bounded to his feet, a hand on the knife in his belt.

He stood still waiting, ready as a crouching tiger, resolute, a man at bay with an unsated appetite for freedom.

The door opened and John entered.
"You sort of scared me, Master John." "You are safe here, Josiah, and here is your money." He took it without a word, except, "I reckon, Master John, you know I'm thankful.