“How are we going to get him out without getting him slightly killed?” demanded George. “I can sit down in an office and study things out, all right--I learned deduction from observing Hibler’s methods of settling up estates. But when it comes to violent action I don’t know which foot goes first.” “Easiest thing there is,” said Pringle. “We’ll put him wise by a personal. To-morrow we’ll keep out of sight for a day to give him time to see it. We’ll get a hook, a line and a gun, wait till only one man is with Jeff, till Jeff is standing by the fire, and till he gives us the signal we mention in our little ad. Then we let the gun down the chimney to him and he’ll do the rest. Why, it’s the only way! There ain’t no other way, and couldn’t be. Two days more and the jig is strictly up. Let’s go home and sleep those two days.” Chapter XIV “It’s a long worm that has no turning.” --_J. W. Pringle._ The tracking of Borrowman had ended on Wednesday in the wee sma’ hours. On Friday Jeff found this communication in his morning paper: _Run to earth hear everything by hot air now is time for party to aid himself to-night at nine sharp be at fire signal when ready by cowboy’s lament hold fast all six fine friends I give you._ Jeff was pleased. Yet this was the hardest day of his captivity. He made things very unpleasant for Borrowman, who was on guard, his drunk having disarranged the previous schedule. The day dragged slowly on. Mac came at seven and Borrowman left as soon as supper was cooked. Jeff had let the fire run low. He stood with his back to it, carrying on an earnest conversation with Mac, who sat on the bed. “What time is it, Mac?” “Eight-feefty.” “Most bedtime,” said Jeff, yawning. “Can’t you manage to stick it out till this time to-morrow night?” he demanded querulously. “That’ll put it back the way it was, so Borrowman’ll be on while I’m asleep. That filthy brute isn’t fit for a gentleman to associate with. Besides, he’ll be letting me get away.” “He’s all that and worse,” said Mac, grinning toothsomely, “but he’ll na let ye get away. Man, I jalouse he fair aches to kill ye. Ye treat him with much disrespect. Ye’ll na get away from him or me, neither. We’ll hold you here till crack o’ doom, if need be.” “Oh, yes, I’ll escape sooner or later, of course,” said Jeff pleasantly. “And that reminds me--I’ll be wanting a hat before long. I wish you’d get me a good one. You didn’t fetch mine here, you know. I suppose the barrel of Broderick’s gun cut it. Certainly it did. How else could it have cut my head open so? Get a J. B., 7⅛, four-inch brim, pearl gray. It’ll supply a long-wanted felt.” “Ye’ll need no hat. Man, ye vex me wi’ your frantic journeys. Ye canna escape. It is na possible. If ye do, ye may e’en take my hat, for I’ll no be needin’ it mair.”