The storm was wild enough, but of short duration, and it came to its end as suddenly as it had begun. As the black cloud departed from the sky, the darkness, which had been almost a solid inside the still-house, was pierced by certain lines of mild light coming through various chinks in the walls and roof. Our friends examined one another curiously, as if to be sure that it was not all a dream. Cattleton found himself face to face with a demure-looking young man, whom he at once recognized as Harry Punner, a writer of delicious verses and editor of a rollicking humorous journal at New York. "Hello, Hal! you here?" he cried. "Well how does it strike your funny bone? It insists upon appearing serious to me." "I'm smothering for a whiff of fresh air," said Punner, in a very matter-of-fact tone. "Can't we raise a window or something?" "The only window visible to the naked eye," said Cattleton, "is already raised higher than I can reach," and he pointed to a square hole in the wall about seven and a-half feet above the ground and very near the roof. Crane went about in the room remarking that the aroma floating in the air was the bouquet of the very purest and richest copper-distilled corn whisky and that if he could find it he was quite sure that a sip of it would prove very refreshing under the peculiar circumstances of the case, an observation which called forth from Mrs. Nancy Jones Black a withering temperance reprimand. "As the presiding officer of the _Woman's Prohibition Promulgation Society_ I cannot let such a remark pass without condemning it. If this really is a liquor establishment I desire to be let out of it forthwith." "So do I!" exclaimed little Mrs. Philpot with great vehemence. "Open the door Mr. Hubbard, please." Hubbard went to the door and finding that it was constructed to open outwardly, gave it a shove with all his might. There was a short tussle and he staggered back. "Why don't you push it open?" fretfully exclaimed Mrs. Nancy Jones Black. "The gentlemen outside object, for reasons not stated," was the rather stolidly spoken answer. Cattleton had taken off his hat and was going about through the company soliciting handkerchiefs. "Drop them in, drop them in," he urged, "I need all of them that I can get." He offered his hat as a contribution box as he spoke, and nearly every-one gave a handkerchief, without in the least suspecting his purpose. When he had collected a round dozen, Cattleton crammed them all down in the crown of his hat which he then put on his head. "Now Hal," he said, addressing Punner, "give me a boost and I'll make an observation through that window." The rain was now entirely ended and the wind had fallen still. With Punner's help Cattleton got up to the window and poked out his head. "Git back ther'!" growled a vicious voice, and at the same time the dull sound of a heavy blow was followed by the retreat of Cattleton from the window to the floor in a great hurry.