To Winthrop the question seemed superfluous. He jumped to his
feet, and peered up into the darkness.

"Where are YOU?" he demanded.

"At the window," came the answer. "We're in the back yard.
Mr. Sam wants to speak to you."

On Miss Forbes's account, Winthrop gave a gasp of relief. On
his own, one of savage satisfaction.

"And _I_ want to speak to HIM!" he whispered.

The moonlight, which had been faintly shining through the iron
bars of the coal chute, was eclipsed by a head and shoulders.
The comfortable voice of Sam Forbes greeted him in a playful
whisper.

"Hullo, Billy! You down there?"

"Where the devil did you think I was?" Winthrop answered at
white heat. "Let me tell you if I was not down here I'd be
punching your head."

"That's all right, Billy," Sam answered soothingly. "But I'll
save you just the same. It shall never be said of Sam Forbes
he deserted a comrade----"

"Stop that! Do you know," Winthrop demanded fiercely, "that