to
investigate his precarious plight. Even if he could climb the
perpendicular wall above his head, he could not thence gain the
aperture, for, as his eyes became more accustomed to the darkness, he
discovered that the shape of the roof was like the interior of a roughly
defined dome, about the centre of which was this small opening.

"An' a human can't walk on a ceilin' like a fly," he said
discontentedly.

"Can't!" cried an echo close at hand.

"Fly!" suggested a distant mocker.

Thad closed his mouth and sat down.

He had moved very cautiously, for he knew that these sink-holes are
often the entrance of extensive caverns, and that there might be a deep
abyss on any side. He could do nothing but wait and call out now and
then, and hope that somebody might soon take the short cut through the
woods, and, hearing his voice, come to his relief.

His courage gave way when he reflected that the river would rise with
the heavy rain which he could hear steadily splashing through the
sink-hole, and for a time all prudent men would go by the beaten road
and the ford. No one would care to take the short cut and save three
miles' travel at the risk of swimming his horse, for the river was
particularly deep just here and spanned only by a footbridge, except,
perhaps, some fugitive from justice, or the revenue officers on their
hurried, reckless raids. This reminded him of the still-house and of
"dad" there yet, imbibing whiskey, and sharing the danger of his chosen
cronies, the moonshiners.

Ben, at home, would not have his anxiety roused till midnight, at least,
by his brother's failure to return from the complicated feat of decoying
the drunkard from the distillery. Thad trembled to think what might
happen to himself in the interval. If the volume of water pouring down
through the sink-hole should increase to any considerable extent, he
would be drowned here like a rat. Was he to have his wish, and see his
brother never again?

And poor Ben! How his own cruel, wicked parting words would scourge him
throughout his life,--even when he should grow old!

Thad's eyes filled with tears of prescient pity for his brother's
remorse.

"Ef ennything war ter happen hyar, sure enough, I wish he mought always
know ez I don't keer nothin' now 'bout'n that thar sayin' o' his'n," he
thought wistfully.

He still heard the persistent rain splashing outside. The hollow,
unnatural murmur of a subterranean stream rose drearily. Once he