rchers, if such they were, had gone
away.

"The house, since Davy's grandma's bones were stored away in that cellar
for several moons, has always been thought to be haunted. The fools
probably thought they saw a ghost--an' they're runnin' yet."

Then for the first time Rosalie realised that she was in the haunted
cabin in the swamp, the most fearsome of all places in the world to
Tinkletown, large and small. Not more than three miles from her own
fireside! Not more than half an hour's walk from Daddy Crow and others
in the warmth of whose love she had lived so long!

"It's gettin' too hot here for us," growled Sam at supper. "We've just
got to do something. I'm going out to-night to see if there's any word
from the--from the party. These guys ain't all fools. Somebody is liable
to nose out the trap-door before long and there'll be hell to pay. They
won't come back before to-morrow, I reckon. By thunder, there ought to
be word from the--the boss by this time. Lay low, everybody; I'll be
back before daybreak. This time I'm a-goin' to find out something sure
or know the reason why. I'm gettin' tired of this business. Never know
what minute the jig's up, nor when the balloon busts."

Again he stole forth into the night, leaving his companions more or less
uneasy as to the result, after the startling events of the afternoon.
Hour after hour passed, and with every minute therein, Rosalie's ears
strained themselves to catch the first sound of approaching rescuers.
Her spirits fell, but her hopes were high. She felt sure that the men
outside had seen her face and that at last they had discovered the place
in which she was kept. It would only be a question of time until they
learned the baffling secret of the trap-door. Her only fear lay in the
possibility that she might be removed by her captors before the rescuers
could accomplish her delivery. Her bright, feverish, eager eyes,
gleaming from the sunken white cheeks, appealed to Bill Briggs more than
he cared to admit. The ruffian, less hardened than his fellows, began to
feel sorry for her.

Eleven o'clock found the trio anxious and ugly in their restlessness.
There was no sleep for them. Davy visited the trap over a hundred times
that night. His mother, breaking over the traces of restraint, hugged
the jug of whiskey, taking swig after swig as the vigil wore on. At last
Davy, driven to it, insisted upon having his share. Bill drank but
little, and it was not long before