irls,
but got nowhere.

"They sound well enough, and they're mostly short, but there's no
similarity of termination--and no two alike. However, our acquaintance
is limited as yet."

There were many things we meant to ask--as soon as we could talk well
enough. Better teaching I never saw. From morning to night there was
Somel, always on call except between two and four; always pleasant with
a steady friendly kindness that I grew to enjoy very much. Jeff said
Miss Zava--he would put on a title, though they apparently had none--was
a darling, that she reminded him of his Aunt Esther at home; but Terry
refused to be won, and rather jeered at his own companion, when we were
alone.

"I'm sick of it!" he protested. "Sick of the whole thing. Here we are
cooped up as helpless as a bunch of three-year-old orphans, and being
taught what they think is necessary--whether we like it or not. Confound
their old-maid impudence!"

Nevertheless we were taught. They brought in a raised map of their
country, beautifully made, and increased our knowledge of geographical
terms; but when we inquired for information as to the country outside,
they smilingly shook their heads.

They brought pictures, not only the engravings in the books but colored
studies of plants and trees and flowers and birds. They brought tools
and various small objects--we had plenty of "material" in our school.

If it had not been for Terry we would have been much more contented, but
as the weeks ran into months he grew more and more irritable.

"Don't act like a bear with a sore head," I begged him. "We're getting
on finely. Every day we can understand them better, and pretty soon we
can make a reasonable plea to be let out--"

"LET out!" he stormed. "LET out--like children kept after school. I want
to Get Out, and I'm going to. I want to find the men of this place and
fight!--or the girls--"

"Guess it's the girls you're most interested in," Jeff commented. "What
are you going to fight WITH--your fists?"

"Yes--or sticks and stones--I'd just like to!" And Terry squared off and
tapped Jeff softly on the jaw. "Just for instance," he said.

"Anyhow," he went on, "we could get back to our machine and clear out."

"If it's there," I cautiously suggested.

"Oh, don't croak, Van! If it isn't there, we'll find our way down
somehow--the boat's there, I guess."

It was hard on Terry, so hard that he finally persuaded us to consider
a plan of escape. It was diff