by a possible way out came to him. Then he lay down upon the bed, drew a
blanket over him because the night was chill in the City of Mexico, and
calmly sought sleep.




CHAPTER II

A HAIR-CUT


The optimism of Mr. Austin endured the next morning, but Ned was gloomy.
Since it was his habit to be silent, the man did not notice it at first.
The breakfast was good, with tortillas, frijoles, other Mexican dishes
and coffee, but the boy had no appetite. He merely picked at his food,
made a faint effort or two to drink his coffee and finally put the cup
back almost full in the saucer. Then Mr. Austin began to observe.

"Are you ill, Ned?" he asked. "Is this imprisonment beginning to tell
upon you? I had thought that you were standing it well. Can't you eat?"

"I don't believe I'm hungry," replied the boy, "but there is nothing
else the matter with me. I'll be all right, Uncle Steve. Don't you
bother about me."

He ate a little breakfast, about one half of the usual amount, and then,
asking to be excused, went to the window, where he again stared out at
the tiled roofs, the green foliage in the valley of Mexico and the
ranges and peaks beyond. He was taking his resolution, and he was