t is when there's no light," said the boy coolly; and swinging
the lanthorn as he rose, he continued, "You'll find the road to your
mouth, I daresay. I did not bring you a knife, because you're such a
savage one."

"Where is my dirk?"

"What d'yer mean? Your little sword?"

"Yes."

"Father's got it all right; said it was a dangerous thing for a boy!"

Ram gave his prisoner a nod, and went off whistling, the prisoner
following at a distance, and getting pretty close up to the beginning of
the slope as the lanthorn disappeared round a corner. Then, as he
listened, it seemed to him that the boy climbed up somewhere, talking
the while to his companion, their voices sounding hollow and rumbling,
then there was a pause, the dull thud of a closing door, the drawing of
bolts, and soon the rattling of heavy stones, and once more all was
silent.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

A strange depressing sensation came over the young prisoner as he stood
there once more alone, but he turned sharply round with his teeth set,
thought for a few moments about his course back, and then, feeling more
determined and firm, walked slowly on, and to his great delight found
that it was possible to become educated to do without sight, for, each
time that he thought he was near a pillar, he stretched out his hand to
find that he touched it, and with very little difficulty he walked
straight up to the old sail, felt about, and there was the basket of
food, which he attacked at once, and soon after fell asleep.

Four more visits were paid him by Ram, but whether they were at
intervals of days or half days, the prisoner could not tell, for any
questions he asked were laughingly evaded, and all attempts at
persuasion and bribery proved useless.

He did learn that the cutter had just returned and gone away again. And
it seemed to him that he was forgotten, but he never thoroughly lost
heart, and during this time he had accustomed himself to the darkness,
and educated his feet wonderfully in the topography of the place.

Of one thing he had fully satisfied himself, and that was the
hopelessness of getting out by the way his visitors came in. They were
too cautious ever to leave the door unguarded; hence the prisoner felt
that if he knocked down and stunned the frank, good-tempered boy who
seemed disposed to be the best of friends in every way but that of
helping him to escape, he would be no nearer freedom than before.

He had gone up the s