Adam devoted his efforts toward his own studies and did not consider Windsor Academy any more difficult than the school in Council, but the presentation and experience of the teachers was the difference. He liked the regime of the military training, and the marching and drilling were a pleasant relief to him. With the exception of football, he had no contact with Turner. The cadet sergeant did not approach Adam at drill or any other time during the week. If Turner was involved in either daily inspections or accompanied Major West Saturday mornings, the boy avoided conversation with Adam. But the situation changed when Major West blew the whistle and football practice began. The afternoon turned into a contest between the two athletes. At the close of practice, Adam was bruised and sore from the blocking, tackling and scrimmaging. When the major explained the schedule for the trip to Washington and the game with Jefferson College, he sensed the excitement rising in all of the players. It was a trip away from Windsor Academy and that offered a reprieve.

Adam sat at his study desk for an hour or so going over the next Monday's literature lesson, got ready for bed, went to the hand basin room, and walking back to his room, listened to younger cadets frolicking in their rooms. It was a cold night outside, but in the steam-heated dormitory, the cadets were comfortable. He switched off the light and climbed into his bed.

Adam was asleep when he heard movement in the room. He rolled over onto his side and realized that he was hearing someone making an attempt to sneak into his room. Perhaps it was Sanders coming back from town. Without warning, he felt the rough woolen fiber of a blanket being thrown down over him and strong arms keeping his head covered. Simultaneously, a rather weak blow struck him in the side, and, then, a hard one smashed into his rib cage. A blow of a bony fist to the head missed its mark, but a second followed that struck him on the jaw. He fought and reeled under the blanket but he was unable to free himself. Whoever was pining his arms down and keeping the blanket over his head, was strong.

Through the attack, Adam wiggled and twisted in an effort to avoid the blows. He was going to make them work for every punch. Finally, he was exhausted, the attack grew ferocious, and whoever was hitting him in the ribs was powerful and determined. Then, the attack was over, and he heard a muffled voice command the attackers to stop. He was in deep pain and Adam hurt too badly to open his eyes when the blanket was pulled from him. He heard his attackers run from the room and down the stairs. When he breathed, his chest ached with a searing pain.

Suddenly, the deep hurting feeling of being far away from anyone who cared for him, loved him, flooded over Adam. He moaned when he turned in the bed, but by shifting his weight, he got comfortable and attempted to relax and think of the attack. The pain was insufferable and he was unable to stop the tears. He was deep in self-pity but he did not care. He was all alone and hurt. No one was there to help him and he cried aloud. Fearing someone might hear him, Adam buried his face into his pillow. Horrible thoughts filled his mind. Run away, his mind told him. Leave this God-awful place with its bullies and mean, sadistic boys. He had heard of boys leaving and walking far into the night until they were either caught or found a way home. But he was hundreds of miles from Council. Oh, Carrie, come hold me, his brain screamed.

A voice within him shouted, run, Adam, run away! He tried planning his escape in his mind. He had ten dollars hidden in his trunk. Money he had tucked aside from his allowance. He thought of the box of his mother's sugar cookies he had received from home that day. Letters and cookies were not enough. Carrie had never written. Not once since he left Council. He wrote her but had not received an answer from her. God, he wanted to be at home! He wanted to have Aunty Jane hold him. He wanted to be anyplace other than Windsor Academy. To hell with it, he thought. To hell with college. Fantasy escapes filled his thoughts. If he ran off, he might hide in the woods near the railroad, jump on a northern bound freight train and ride to Memphis, and then find his aunt. No, that was impossible. Several boys had already tried that idea and had gotten caught.

A horse, he reasoned, he might steal a horse and ride home. Everything had to be well planned. Stealing extra food might present a problem. Sanders would help. No, he could not take anyone into his confidence. Not even Sanders. No, horse stealing was a crime and a hanging offense. Wasn't it? Adam argued with himself. Adam guessed he would not get into a college or university, even law school with a felony over his head if they did not hang him on the spot. Hell, he wanted to scream but his head hurt too badly. He wanted to go home. Perhaps, if he closed his eyes and prayed, he might be carried back there in some magical, spiritual manner. He lay on his bed trying to clear his mind and was still awake when he recognized Sanders' steps on the stairs and heard his roommate enter the room.