circus boy?" she asked timidly.

"Yes; I am tied here. Have you got a knife to cut this rope?"

"Yes; I brought one with me."

"Then you knew I was here?" Kit asked in surprise.

"Yes; it was my father that locked you up here--my father and another
man."

"Will you cut the rope and let me go, then?"

"Yes; that is what I came for."

The little maid went up to the captive, bent over, and with considerable
sawing, for the knife she had with her was a dull case knife, succeeded
in severing the rope, and Kit was able to rise and stand upon his feet.
It was a perfect luxury to feel himself once more free and unshackled.

"I'm very much obliged to you," he said, gratefully. "You can't imagine
how stiff I am."

"I should think you would be," said Janet, sympathetically.

"When did your father tell you that I was here?"

"After he got home last night. It was after he had eaten his supper."

"And where is he now?"

"At home and asleep."

"Does he get up early?" asked Kit, in some anxiety.

"Yes, when he is at work; but the mine is shut down for a few days, so
he lies abed longer."

"Did he say anything about coming here to-day?"

"Yes, he meant to come--he and the other man--and I was afraid he would
do you some harm."

"He would have done so, I am sure," said Kit, shuddering. "I don't see
how such a rough father should have so good a daughter."

Janet blushed, and seemed pleased with the compliment.

"I think I take after my mother," she said.

"Is your mother alive?"

"No, she died two years ago," answered Janet, sorrowfully. "She was
Scotch, and that is why I am called by a Scotch name."

"What is your name, if you don't mind telling me?"

"Janet. I am Janet Hayden."

"I shall always remember it, for you have done me a great service."

"What is your name?" asked Janet, feeling less timid than at first.

"Kit Watson."

"That is a funny name--Kit, I mean."

"My right name is Christopher, but my friends call me Kit. Can you
direct me to the next town--Groveton, where the circus shows to-day."

"Yes, if you will come outside, I will point out which way it is."

Kit emerged from the cabin, nothing loath, and Janet pointed in a
westerly direction.

"You go over the hill," she said, "and you will come to a road. You will
know it, for near the stile there is a red house."

"Thank you. How far is it to the next town?"

"Eight miles, I believe."

"That would be a long walk. Do you think I c