"You get in that el-e-VAY-ter!"

Reckless with despair, Duke jumped into the basket, landing in a
dishevelled posture, which he did not alter until he had been drawn
up and poured out upon the floor of sawdust with the box. There,
shuddering, he lay in doughnut shape and presently slumbered.

It was dark in the box, a condition that might have been remedied by
sliding back a small wooden panel on runners, which would have let in
ample light from the alley; but Penrod Schofield had more interesting
means of illumination. He knelt, and from a former soap-box, in a
corner, took a lantern, without a chimney, and a large oil-can, the leak
in the latter being so nearly imperceptible that its banishment
from household use had seemed to Penrod as inexplicable as it was
providential.

He shook the lantern near his ear: nothing splashed; there was no sound
but a dry clinking. But there was plenty of kerosene in the can; and he
filled the lantern, striking a match to illumine the operation. Then he
lit the lantern and hung it upon a nail against the wall. The sawdust
floor was slightly impregnated with oil, and the open flame quivered in
suggestive proximity to the side of the box; however, some rather deep
charrings of the plank against which the lantern hung offered evidence
that the arrangement was by no means a new one, and indicated at least a
possibility of no fatality occurring this time.

Next, Penrod turned up the surface of the sawdust in another corner
of the floor, and drew forth a cigar-box in which were half a
dozen cigarettes, made of hayseed and thick brown wrapping paper, a
lead-pencil, an eraser, and a small note-book, the cover of which was