"A watch of the Wheelton Watch Company!" exclaimed Phil Evans.

Whatever might be the reason, there was no doubt that the day was
breaking. Gradually the window became white in the deep darkness of
the cell. However, if the dawn appeared sooner than the fortieth
parallel permitted, it did not advance with the rapidity peculiar to
lower latitudes. This was another observation--of Uncle Prudent's -
a new inexplicable phenomenon.

"Couldn't we get up to the window and see where we are?"

"We might," said Uncle Prudent. "Frycollin, get up!"

The Negro arose.

"Put your back against the wall," continued Prudent, "and you, Evans,
get on his shoulders while I buttress him up."

"Right!" said Evans.

An instant afterwards his knees were on Frycollin's shoulders, and
his eyes were level with the window. The window was not of lenticular
glass like those on shipboard, but was a simple flat pane. It was
small, and Phil Evans found his range of view was much limited.

"Break the glass," said Prudent, "and perhaps you will be able to see
better."

Phil Evans gave it a sharp knock with the handle of his bowie-knife.