istening now," said Jem, loudly; "a lively smiling sort
of a man. That's what he is, Mas' Don. Sort o' man always on the blue
sneak." Don held up his hand.

"Think they suspect anything, Jem?" he whispered.

"Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't, Mas' Don. That stoutish chap
seemed to smell a rat, and that smiling door-knocker fellow was all on
the spy; but I don't think he heared anything, and I'm sure he didn't
see. Now, then, can you tell me whether they're coming back?"

Don shook his head, and they remained thinking and watching for nearly
an hour before Jem declared that they must risk it.

"One minute," said Don; and he went on tip-toe as far as the trap-door,
and lying down, listened and applied his eyes to various cracks, before
feeling convinced that no one was listening.

"Why, you didn't try if it was fastened," cried Jem; and taking out his
knife, he inserted it opposite to the hinges, and tried to lever up the
door.

It was labour in vain, for the bolt had been shot.

"They don't mean to let us go, Mas' Don," said Jem. "Come on, and let's
get the rope done."

They returned to the sacking, lifted it up, and taking out the
unfinished rope, worked away rapidly, but with the action of sparrows
feeding in a road--one peck and two looks out for danger.

Half-a-dozen times at least the work was hidden, some sound below
suggesting danger, while over and over again, in spite of their efforts,
the rope advanced so slowly, and the result was so poor, that Don felt
in despair of its being done by the time they wanted it, and doubtful
whether if done it would bear their weight.

He envied Jem's stolid patience and the brave way in which he worked,
twisting, and knotting about every three feet, while every time their
eyes met Jem gave him an encouraging nod.

Whether to be successful or not, the making of the rope did one thing--
it relieved them of a great deal of mental strain.

In fact, Don stared wonderingly at the skylight, as it seemed to him to
have suddenly turned dark.

"Going to be a storm, Jem," he said. "Will the rain hurt the rope?"

"Storm, Mas' Don? Why, it's as clear as clear. Getting late, and us
not done."

"But the rope must be long enough now."

"Think so, sir?"

"Yes; and if it is not, we can easily drop the rest of the way."

"What! And break our legs, or sprain our ankles, and be caught? No
let's make it another yard or two."

"Hist! Quick!"

They were only j