ft for several hours alone in the attic of the
farmer's house. He felt far from comfortable, and he experienced great
mortification at the thought that he had been captured by a Quaker.

"I might as well have been captured by a woman," he said to himself.
"I shall never hold up my head again--that is," he added, after a
pause, "unless I circumvent him and get away."

Fox dragged himself to the window and looked out.

"If only my brother knew where I was," he reflected, "he would soon
turn the tables on those clodhoppers."

But, as he knew, his brother was twenty miles away, on a different
expedition.

John Fox was a man of expedients. In his long career as an outlaw he
had more than once been "in a hole," but he had never failed by some
means or other to extricate himself. This was what he decided to do at
present, if it were possible.

It was not for some time that he bethought himself of a knife that he
had in his pocket. If he could get it out so as to use it, he would be
able to cut the ropes that bound him and escape--that is, if he were
not interfered with.

He looked out of the window again, and saw Luke Robbins and the farmer
walking up the road.

"They think I am safe," soliloquized Fox, "but perhaps they may find
themselves mistaken."

He reflected with satisfaction that there was no one in the house but
Mrs. Mason and himself. She was a timid, nervous woman, who would wilt
at a look from him. Yet as matters stood he was helpless even against
her.

As it was uncertain how long his two jailers would be absent, it
behooved him to escape as soon as possible. There was of course a
difficulty in the way, as his hands were securely tied together at the
wrists, and he could not, therefore, thrust them into his pocket and
obtain the knife. But possibly by rolling over he might manage to make
it slip out. It seemed the only possible way to accomplish his object,
so he at once set to work. Rolling over and over, he at length found
himself in such a position that the knife--a large jack-knife--slipped
from the gaping mouth of the pocket.

"Ha, that is the first step towards success," he cried triumphantly.

Next he must pick up the knife and open it. This was easier than the
first step. His hands were tied at the wrists, but his fingers were
free to work. It seemed a simple thing to open the knife, but it took
him some time. At last, however, he succeeded.

"That is the second step towards liberty," he s