retrieving them. I was determined either to break
my way out of my prison, or convince my jailer it was not strong enough
to hold me.

I felt of the stones that formed the wall, and pulled out as many of the
small ones as were loose enough to permit their removal. I then used my
strength on a dozen of the larger ones, till I found one which could be
taken out. How I wished then for an iron bar! With such an implement I
felt that I could soon let in the daylight. But I had no bar, and after
removing one stone about the size of my head, I was utterly unable to
start another around it.

I was perplexed. I felt in my pockets for something to help me. I don't
know but I had a faint hope of finding an iron bar; but certainly there
was none there, or anything else with which I could operate on the
obdurate stone wall. In my perplexity, I "fished my pockets" thoroughly.
In the usual assortment a boy carries with him, I had a quantity of
matches. I was not a smoker, but I always found it convenient to have a
match when I happened to be out after dark in the Splash, to light my
cabin lantern.

These matches were suggestive, for the door of my prison was made of
wood, and fire would consume and destroy it. There were several shelves
across the end of my dungeon, one of which I pulled down, and with my
knife proceeded to whittle off the shavings for a fire. While I was thus
engaged, I heard a vehicle drive up to the door. It was immediately
followed by another, and I concluded that my uncle had returned. I had
made a large pile of shavings. I then went to work on the lower part of
the door, cutting into it, and roughening the boards, so that the fire
could be readily communicated to it.

Having completed my preparations, I lighted a match, and set fire to the
shavings. They were rather damp, and it was some time before I could get
up a free fire. I moved the combustibles against the door; but the wood
was saturated with moisture, and I was almost suffocated by the smoke,
while the door appeared to be only charred by the heat of the fire.
While I was busily engaged in this effort, the props were removed, and
the door thrown open. My uncle rushed forward and stamped out the fire I
had kindled.

"What are you doing, Ernest?" gasped my uncle.

"Working my way out of this hole," I replied.

"There, Thomas, you can see what the boy is," groaned my uncle. "But he
shall not be kept in such a place as this."

"Very well, governor,