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Tom don' want to go to the poor…farm。〃
November came in surly。
The cheerful stir and bustle of the harvest were over； the corn
was shocked； the apples and pumpkins were gathered into barns。
The problem of Tom's future was finally laid before the selectmen；
and since the poor fellow's mild obstinancy had defeated all attempts
to conquer it； the sheriff took the matter in hand。
The blueberry plains looked bleak and bare enough now。 It had rained
incessantly for days； growing ever colder and colder as it rained。
The sun came out at last； but it shone in a wintry sort of way；
like a duty smile；as if light； not heat； were its object。
A keen wind blew the dead leaves hither and thither in a wild dance
that had no merriment in it。 A blackbird flew under an old barrel
by the wayside； and； ruffling himself into a ball； remarked despondently
that feathers were no sort of protection in this kind of climate。
A snowbird； flying by； glanced in at the barrel； and observed that
anybody who minded a little breeze like that had better join the woodcocks；
who were leaving for the South by the night express。
The blueberry bushes were stripped bare of green。 The stunted
pines and sombre hemlocks looked in tone with the landscape now；
where all was dreary they did not seem amiss。
〃Je…whilikins！〃 exclaimed the sheriff as he drew up his coat collar。
〃A madhouse is the place for the man who wants to live ou'doors in
the winter time； the poor…farm is too good for him。〃
But Tom was used to privation； and even to suffering。
〃Ou'doors〃 was the only home he knew； and with all its rigors he loved it。
He looked over the barren plains； knowing； in a dull sort of way；
that they would shortly be covered with snow； but he had three coats；
two of them with sleeves； and the crunch…crunch of the snow
under his tread was music to his ears。 Then； too； there were
a few hospitable firesides where he could always warm himself；
and the winter would soon be over； the birds would come again；
new birds； singing the old songs；the sap would mount in the trees；
the buds swell on the blueberry bushes； and the young ivory
leaves push their ruddy tips through the softening ground。
The plains were fatherland and mother…country； home and kindred； to Tom。
He loved the earth that nourished him； and he saw through all
the seeming death in nature the eternal miracle of the resurrection。
To him winter was never cruel。 He looked underneath her white mantle；
saw the infant spring hidden in her warm bosom； and was content to wait。
Content to wait？ Content to starve； content to freeze； if only
he need not be carried into captivity。
The poor…farm was not a bad place； either； if only Tom
had been a reasonable being。 To be sure； when Hannah Sophia
Palmer asked old Mrs。 Pinkham how she liked it； she answered；
with a patient sigh； that 〃her 'n' Mr。 Pinkham hed lived
there goin' on nine year； workin' their fingers to the bone
'most； 'n' yet they hadn't been able to lay up a cent！〃
If this peculiarity of administration was its worst feature；
it was certainly one that would have had no terrors for Tom o'
the blueb'ry plains。 Terrors of some sort； nevertheless；
the poor…farm had for him； and when the sheriff's party
turned in by the clump of white birches and approached
the cabin； they found that fear had made the simple wise。
Tom had provished the little upper chamber； and； in place
of the piece of sacking that usually served him for a door
in winter； he had woven a defense of willow。 In fine；
he had taken all his basket stuff； and； treating the opening
through which he entered and left his home precisely as
if it were a bottomless chair； he had filled it in solidly；
weaving to and fro； by night as well as by day； till he felt；
poor fool； as safely intrenched as if he were in the heart
of a fortress。
The sheriff tied his horse to a tree； and Rube Hobson and Pitt Packard
got out of the double wagon。 Two men laughed when they saw the pathetic
defense； but the other shut his lips together and caught his breath。
（He had been born on a poor…farm； but no one knew it at Pleasant River。）
They called Tom's name repeatedly； but no other sound broke the silence
of the plains save the rustling of the wind among the dead leaves。
〃Numb…head！〃 muttered the sheriff； pounding on the side
of the cabin with his whip…stock。 〃Come out and show yourself！
We know you're in there； and it's no use hiding！〃
At last in response to a deafening blow from Rube Hobson's hard fist；
there came the answering note of a weak despairing voice。
〃Tom ain't ter hum；〃 it said； 〃Tom's gone to Bonny Eagle。〃
〃That's all right！〃 guffawed the men； 〃but you've got to go some more；
and go a diff'rent way。 It ain't no use fer you to hold back； we've got
a ladder； and by Jiminy！ you go with us this time！〃
The ladder was put against the side of the hut； and Pitt Packard
climbed up； took his jack…knife； slit the woven door from top to bottom；
and turned back the flap。
The men could see the inside of the chamber now。 They were humorous
persons who could strain a joke to the snapping point； but they felt；
at last； that there was nothing especially amusing in the situation。
Tom was huddled in a heap on the straw bed in the far corner。
The vacant smile had fled from his face； and he looked； for the first
time in his life； quite distraught。
〃Come along； Tom；〃 said the sheriff kindly；
〃we 're going to take you where you can sleep in a bed；
and have three meals a day。〃
〃I'd much d'ruth…er walk in the bloom…in' gy…ar…ding；〃
sang Tom quaveringly； as he hid his head in a paroxysm of fear。
〃Well； there ain't no bloomin' gardings to walk in jest now；
so come along and be peaceable。〃
〃Tom don' want to go to the poor…farm；〃 he wailed piteously。
But there was no alternative。 They dragged him off the bed
and down the ladder as gently as possible； then Rube Hobson held him
on the back seat of the wagon； while the sheriff unhitched the horse。
As they were on the point of starting； the captive began to wail
and struggle more than ever； the burden of his plaint being a wild
and tremulous plea for his pail of molasses。
〃Dry up； old softy； or I'll put the buggy robe over your head！〃
muttered Rube Hobson； who had not had much patience when he started
on the trip； and had lost it all by this time。
〃By thunder！ he shall hev his molasses； if he thinks he wants it！〃
said Pitt Packard； and he ran up the ladder and brought it down；
comforting the shivering creature thus； for he lapsed into a submissive
silence that lasted until the unwelcome journey was over。
Tom remained at the poorhouse precisely twelve hours。
It did not enter the minds of the authorities that any one so fortunate
as to be admitted into that happy haven would decline to stay there。
The unwilling guest disappeared early on the morrow of his arrival； and；
after some search； they followed him to the old spot。 He had climbed
into his beloved retreat； and； having learned nothing from experience；
had mended the willow door as best he could； and laid him down in peace。
They dragged him out again； and this time more impatiently；
for it was exasperating to see a man （even if he were a fool）
fight against a bed and three meals a day。
The second attempt was little more successful than the first。
As a place of residence； the poor…farm did not seem any more desirable
or attractive on near acquaintance than it did at long range。
Tom remained a week； because he was kept in close confinement；
but when they judged that he was weaned from his old home；
they loosed his bonds； andback to the plains he sped； like an arrow
shot from the bow； or like a bit of iron leaping to the magnet。
What should be done with him？
Public opinion was divided。 Some people declared that
the village had done its duty； and if the 〃dog…goned lunk…head〃
wanted to starve and freeze； it was his funeral； not theirs。
Others thought that the community had no resource but to
bear the responsibility of its irresponsible children；
however troublesome they might be。 There was entire
unanimity of view so far as the main issues were concerned。
It was agreed that nobody at the poor…farm had leisure to stand
guard over Tom night and day； and that the sheriff could
not be expected to spend his time forcing him out of his hut
on the blueberry plains。
There was but one more expedient to be tried； a very simple
and ingenious but radical and comprehensive one； which； in Rube
Hobson's opinion； would strike at the root of the matter。
Tom had fled from captivity for the third time。
He had stolen out at daybreak； and； by an unexpected stroke
of fortune； the molasses pail was hanging on a nail by the shed door。
The remains of a battered old bushel basket lay on the wood…pile： bottom
it had none； nor handles； rotundity of side had l