Any man who could beat a six-thousand-to-one shot commanded his admiration.
And, having settled his own course of action, he tried to imagine himself in the place of the man who at that very moment was endeavoring to escape.

Were he that man, he would first, he decided, rid himself of his tell-tale clothing.

But that would leave him naked, and in Westchester County a naked man would be quite as conspicuous as one in the purple-gray cloth of the prison.

How could he obtain clothes?
He might hold up a passer-by, and, if the passer-by did not flee from him or punch him into insensibility, he might effect an exchange of garments; he might by threats obtain them from some farmer; he might despoil a scarecrow.
But with none of these plans was Fred entirely satisfied.

The question deeply perplexed him.