rib, shoved him in, untied
the rope, and bolted the door. Then the burly man shoved in a pone of
cornbread and a pan of water.

"You go to town to-morrow, Sam," he said as he rebolted the door. "Just
hang around and listen. See if there's any reward in the paper--big red
Irish setter. His owner might telegraph the paper to-night. Sooner we
make the deal, the better."

Inside the crib the captive stood listening with shrewdly pricked ears
while the mumble of voices died away toward the shack, steps stamped up
on the porch, and the door slammed. Then he went cautiously round his
prison, whiffing the sides, rearing up on the log walls. Across the rear
corner was a pile of boxes. He climbed up on them. They rattled and he
jumped quickly down.

But later, after all sound had ceased in the shack and the lights he had
been watching through a chink in the logs had gone out, he climbed
carefully over behind these boxes. There was space to stand in back
here; the floor was of broad boards. Through the cracks he could see
that the crib was set up off the ground.

He began to scratch the corner board, then to gnaw. All night long at
intervals he sounded like a big rat in a barn. Sometimes he rested,
panting hard, then went back to work.

At the first sound of movement in the shack next morning he leaped back
over the boxes, and when the burly man opened the door to shove in bread
and water he lay in the middle of the floor and looked upon his captor
with sullen dignity.

That night he gnawed, and the next. But the surface of the board
offered little hold for claws or teeth. Industry, patience, a good
cause, do not make boards less hard, nails less maddening. He saw the
third day dawn, he heard steps stumping about in the shack, he saw the
other man ride into the dirty yard, and he sank down panting on his
prison floor, his head between his paws, dismay in his heart.

They brought him his breakfast and there was talk before his prison.

"Two hundred dollars, hell!" said the burly man. "Is that all they're
offering? They'll give a thousand but what they'll git that dog!"

"Well," said the other, "I told Fred to watch the papers, and if the
reward went up to send us one. You goin' to keep him stopped up in
thar?"

"No. I'm goin' to hunt him--over 'bout the swamps where nobody's apt to
see him. Then s'pose questions is asked? We don't read no papers. We
just found a lost dog and took care of him--see?"

"S'pose he sneaks