ach him to be brave. We none of us mind pricking ourselves; we've
done it heaps of times. H. O. didn't like it, but he agreed to do it,
and I helped him a little because he was so slow, and when he saw the
red bead of blood getting fatter and bigger as I squeezed his thumb he
was very pleased, just as I had told him he would be.

This is what we wrote with H. O.'s blood, only the blood gave out when
we got to 'Restored', and we had to write the rest with crimson lake,
which is not the same colour, though I always use it, myself, for
painting wounds.

While Oswald was writing it he heard Alice whispering to the prisoner
that it would soon be over, and it was only play. The prisoner left off
howling, so I pretended not to hear what she said. A Bandit Captain has
to overlook things sometimes. This was the letter--

'Albert Morrison is held a prisoner by Bandits.
On payment of three thousand pounds he will be
restored to his sorrowing relatives, and all
will be forgotten and forgiven.'

I was not sure about the last part, but Dicky was certain he had seen it
in the paper, so I suppose it must have been all right.

We let H. O. take the letter; it was only fair, as it was his blood it
was written with, and told him to leave it next door for Mrs Morrison.

H. O. came back quite quickly, and Albert-next-door's uncle came with
him.

'What is all this, Albert?' he cried. 'Alas, alas, my nephew! Do I find
you the prisoner of a desperate band of brigands?'

'Bandits,' said H. O; 'you know it says bandits.'

'I beg your pardon, gentlemen,' said Albert-next-door's uncle, 'bandits
it is, of course. This, Albert, is the direct result of the pursuit of
the guy on an occasion when your doting mother had expressly warned you
to forgo the pleasures of the chase.'

Albert said it wasn't his fault, and he hadn't wanted to play.

'So ho!' said his uncle, 'impenitent too! Where's the dungeon?'

We explained the dungeon, and showed him the straw pallet and the ewer
and the mouldering crusts and other things.

'Very pretty and complete,' he said. 'Albert, you are more highly
privileged than ever I was. No one ever made me a nice dungeon when I
was your age. I think I had better leave you where you are.'

Albert began to cry again and said he was sorry, and he would be a good
boy.

'And on this old familiar basis you expect me to ransom you, do you?
Honestly, my nephew, I doubt whether you are worth it. Besides,