As for me, he swore that he'd show me who was the master. He did! One day, he caught me and took me three miles up the river to an old log hut in the woods. I couldn't get away because he always locked the door and kept the key on him. He had a gun and we went hunting and fishing, and that's how we lived. From time to time, he locked me in the hut and went down to the store to get whisky in exchange for fish and the animals that he'd shot. He usually came back drunk and then he'd begin beating me.
　　Two dreadful months passed like this. My clothes became filthy rags, like my father's. I couldn't stand it any longer. I simply had to escape. But how? The window was too small for a dog to get through. The chimney was far too narrow for me to climb through. The door was made of hard wood, nearly three inches thick. How could I get out? Well, at last I had the good luck to find a rusty saw lying between the beams and the boards of the roor. I greased it and at once set to work sawing out a part of log at the bottom of the wall. It was hard work but I was determined to get out.