."

Don was too deep in thought, for the face of his mother was before him,
and he seemed to see the agony she suffered on his account.

"Justly punished," he kept muttering; "justly punished, and now it is
too late--too late."

"Here y'are, Mas' Don," cried Jem; "lots of 'em, and I can't help it, I
must lie down, for my head feels as if it was going to tumble off."

Don heard him make a scuffling noise, as if he were very busy moving
some sacks.

"There!" Jem cried at last; "that's about it. Now, Mas' Don, I've made
you up a tidy bed; come and lie down."

"No, Jem, no; I'm not sleepy."

"Then I must," muttered Jem; and after a little more scuffling noise all
was still for a few minutes, after which there was a regular heavy
breathing, which told that the great trouble he was in had not been
sufficient to keep Jem Wimble awake.

Don stood for some time in the darkness, but by degrees a wretched
feeling of weariness came over him, and he sat down painfully upon the
floor, drawing his knees up to his chin, embracing them, and laying his
head upon them.

He wanted to think of his position, of his folly, and of the trouble
which it had brought upon him. Jem's heavy breathing came regularly
from somewhere to his left, and he found himself, as he crouched
together there in the darkness, envying the poor fellow, much as he was
injured.

"But then he has not so much on his mind as I have," thought Don. "Once
let me get clear away from here, how different I will be."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

HOW TO ESCAPE?

_Rumble_! _Bump_!

Don started and stared, for something had shaken him as if a sudden blow
had been given against the floor.

What did it all mean? Where was he? What window was that through which
the sun shone brightly, and why was he in that rough loft, in company
with a man lying asleep on some sacks?

Memory filled up the vacuum directly, and he knew that his head was
aching, and that he had been fast asleep.

_Crash_!

That was a bolt shot back, and the noise which awakened him must have
been the big step ladder placed against the beam beneath the trap-door.

As Don watched he saw the trap, like a square piece of the floor, rise
up slowly, and a rough, red face appear, framed in hair.

"Ship ahoy!" shouted the owner of the face. "What cheer, messmates?
Want your hot water?"

Just then the man, whose hands were out of sight, and who had kept on
pushing up the trap-door with his head, g