During the preceding night she had been secretly and quietly removed from her first hiding place to the cabin. Her silence was obtained by the promise of being taken home should she be a good little girl, and not make a disturbance. But as a precaution she had been wrapped up in a manner so as completely to blindfold her, and in her childish confidence was conveyed without any trouble, in the dead hour of night, to the cabin. The interior of the cabin was divided into two rooms. The small one was used as a sleeping apartment, having two roughly-constructed bunks, one above the other. On one wall was a small four-paned window that gave light to the room. A small mirror, and a man's clothing hung on the wall, and a short, well-worn strip of carpet covered the floor. The large room served the purpose of a kitchen, dining room, pantry, laundry and general utility combined. There was a small cook stove in the corner near the dividing partition. One dishcloth and a couple of towels hung on a line across the corner of the room over the stove. A shallow box about three feet square, and nailed to the wall beside the window, served as a cupboard for provisions. A table, an old chair, a three-legged stool and a box constituted the remaining furniture. At night a lighted lamp rested on a bracket above the table, and on this particular night Jack's coat hung beside the lamp. The main entrance door of the cabin was at the kitchen end, and opened inward. There was also a door at the bedroom end of the cabin, securely locked and bolted. The door in the partition between the two rooms was in line with the other doors, and had a small pane of glass, six by six inches, in the upper panel. On this eventful night Dorothy was seated on the chair, her head resting on her arms on the end of the table, indifferently watching Jack. He, with a cigar in his mouth and in his gray shirtsleeves, was standing in front of the table wiping a dishpan, the last of the evening cleanup. Putting the pan away under the shelf, he hung the dishcloth beside its mate on the line, and carefully stretched it out to dry. Then, as he sat down on the stool at the end of the table opposite Dorothy, a smile of satisfaction stole over his dark, swarthy face when he surveyed the result of his work--a clean and tidy appearing room. "Eesa be so nice-a da clean. So bute-a da corner. Eesa like-a da fine-a house. Tar-rah-rah! Tink-a eesa get-a da fote-da-graph of eet a made. Put eem in-a Sunny da paper. Eh-a da Daize! What a use-a da tink? Eh!" Dorothy raised her head and looked at him in offended, childish dignity. "My name is not A da Daize; it is Dorothy!" "Eesa like-a da Daize a bet! What youse-a tink? Eesa nicey da room, eh Daize?" Then the child indifferently looked at the corner with its stove and adjuncts. She had been detained in his company now--for four days, and, childlike, was intuitively quick in interpreting the broken, stumbling Dago utterances of Jack.