thless with apprehension.

A dark form passed by within arm's reach and mounted on a box to the
fence. It was Brick himself, resetting the trap. They heard him arrange
the slat and stone, then right the barrel and empty into it a couple of
buckets of water. As he came down from the box to go after more water,
Joe sprang upon him, tripped him up, and held him to the ground.

"Don't make any noise," he said. "I want you to listen to me."

"Oh, it 's you, is it?" Simpson replied, with such obvious relief in
his voice as to make them feel relieved also. "Wot d' ye want here?"

"We want to get out of here," Joe said, "and the shortest way 's the
best. There 's three of us, and you 're only one--"

"That 's all right, that 's all right," the gang-leader interrupted.
"I 'd just as soon show you the way out as not. I ain't got nothin'
'gainst you. Come on an' follow me, an' don't step to the side, an'
I 'll have you out in no time."

Several minutes later they dropped from the top of a high fence into
a dark alley.

"Follow this to the street," Simpson directed; "turn to the right two
blocks, turn to the right again for three, an' yer on Union. Tra-la-loo."

They said good-by, and as they started down the alley received the
following advice:

"Nex' time you bring kites along, you 'd best leave 'em to home."

CHAPTER V

HOME AGAIN

Following Brick Simpson's directions, they came into Union Street, and
without further mishap gained the Hill. From the brow they looked down
into the Pit, whence arose that steady, indefinable hum which comes
from crowded human places.

"I 'll never go down there again, not as long as I live," Fred said
with a great deal of savagery in his voice. "I wonder what became of
the fireman."

"We 're lucky to get back with whole skins," Joe cheered them
philosophically.

"I guess we left our share, and you more than yours," laughed Charley.

"Yes," Joe answered. "And I 've got more trouble to face when I get
home. Good night, fellows."

As he expected, the door on the side porch was locked, and he went
around to the dining-room and entered like a burglar through a window.
As he crossed the wide hall, walking softly toward the stairs, his
father came out of the library. The surprise was mutual, and each
halted aghast.

Joe felt a hysterical desire to laugh, for he thought that he knew
precisely how he looked. In reality he looked far worse than he
imagined. What Mr. Bronson sa