To-morrow would be too late.

He knew he would not be allowed to start on the Sabbath, even in a career that was to be all wickedness.

In the grape-arbour he massed certain articles necessary for the expedition: a very small strip of carpet on which he meant to sleep; a copy of "_Golden Days_," with an article giving elaborate instructions for camping in the wilderness.

He was compelled to disregard all of them, but there was comfort and sustenance in the article itself.
Then there was the gun that came at Christmas.

It shot a cork as far as the string would let it go, with a fairly satisfying report (he would have that string off, once he was in the woods!).