rope gave out you _cut_ for it--ho! ho! ho!" and the speaker went into
spasms of merriment over his own wit.

"'Blade, temper, steel,'" quoted Frank. "Are you getting off a pun, Mr.
Dobbins?"

"Put it that way if you like," returned Dobbins cheerfully. "There was a
knife. That's the long and short of it, don't you see? A boy's pocket
knife. It sawed the big moving cable. Snap! Bang! Away went the house.
Whose knife? Aha! Dear me--who can tell? Sly, hey--Frank, boy? We ain't
going to tell. No need of it. Artful dodgers--ho! ho! ho! Take the five
dollars."

Frank gave a vivid start. He was partly enlightened now. He had mislaid his
knife near the house that had been anchored on the hill side. Somebody had
found it and had cut the cable with it.

"What you are getting at, then," said Frank, "is that a knife cut the rope
loose?"

"Ah, just that."

"And my knife?"

"Oh, yes, it was your knife, Frank--no doubt about that at all."

"How do you know it was my knife?" asked Frank.

"Because it had your name on it. Of course I didn't see the knife used, but
Judge Roseberry found it the next morning right under the windlass."