"tie this fellow and throw him over a horse. We'll settle his
case later on."

The command was promptly obeyed and poor Tom found himself once more in
the grasp of his foes. And from this captivity there seemed little
promise of escape. The deadly purpose of the brute who held him in his
power had been plainly written on his face.

After what seemed an endless journey, the party reached a farmhouse.
The detachment took possession of the place and an orgy of pillage and
destruction ensued. Tom was taken to an upper room and thrown roughly
on the floor. Here he lay bound hand and foot. He could hear cries of
terror and smashing of furniture going on below.

He had no companion but his own thoughts, except when some of the
drunken roysterers invaded his room to remind him of the rope that hung
over the tree near the well and to drive home the information with
kicks of their heavy boots.

His thoughts were black and bitter. This, then, was the end. He was
to be hung to furnish an occasion of laughter to a horde of drunken
brutes. Well, there would be no whine from him. He would show them
how an American could die.

His attention was attracted by a pattering of tiny feet. He looked in
the direction from which the sound came.

A rat had emerged from a hole in the corner and was busy nibbling a
lump of cheese that had been dropped by one of the soldiers who had
just left. The nibbling ceased as Tom turned his head and the rat
scurried back to the corner. There he stayed, his bright eyes looking
longingly at the cheese.

A thought shot through Tom's mind that set him tingling from head to
foot. Was it possible? Of course it was only a forlorn hope. But he
would try it. He would be no worse off if it failed.

He rolled himself over to the cheese and rubbed the rope that tied his
hand in the soft substance until it was thoroughly smeared with it.
Then he lay on his side with his hands outstretched and pretended to
sleep.

Through his nearly closed lids he watched the rat. For some minutes it
stayed motionless. Tom never moved a muscle. Then the rat crept
stealthily forward, and, with many half retreats, at last started in to
nibble at the rope to get the cheese. Soon another rat came and then
another.

Tom conquered the sense of repulsion that their close proximity
inspired in him. His life depended on his self-control. The least
movement might send them scurrying back to their holes. And out