Then faintly and steadily rasp, rasp, rasp went the saw, with so little noise that it did not seem likely that any one out in the saloon would hear it; and though at the first cut or two my heart began to beat with dread, a few minutes later it was throbbing with exultation. For every gnaw of that little keen-toothed instrument sent a thrill of hope through me; and I did not stop to consider what we were to do, or what were our probabilities of success when we reached the saloon, for it seemed to me then that the rest would come. And on it went, gnaw, gnaw, gnaw at the soft grain of the pine-wood board, very slowly, but very surely, I knew; and I was just going to whisper to Mr Frewen, and ask him whether he would like me to take a turn, when the sawing stopped. "Only for a few minutes' breath," he whispered. "Shall I take a turn?" "When we cut the bottom one. I am taller and stronger, and can get at this better than you." Then he began again, and I gazed through the cabin-window, and listened both to his working on the thick board, and for any sound which might indicate that a sentry had taken alarm. But all was silent; and comforting myself with the belief that if the noise was heard it might be taken for the gnawing of a rat, I listened and watched the stars. At last I was in such a state of nervous excitement that I was on the point of begging my companion, to let me take a turn, when from being so intensely hot I suddenly turned speechless and cold. For it suddenly occurred to me that the stars were blotted out, and that the night was blacker. "A cloud," I said to myself at first, but even as I thought that, I felt that it could not be; and at last I was lifting my hand to touch Mr Frewen, and draw his attention to the strange phenomenon, when the sawing suddenly ceased. My companion drew a long breath; and at the same moment, as I felt drawn toward the window by some strange attraction, to try and make out why it was so dark, there was the sound of another deep breath, and I felt it hot and strange right in my face, as in a hoarse whisper some one said-- "How are you getting on?" CHAPTER TWENTY. For a few moments I could not utter a word in that black darkness. I heard Mr Frewen give a sudden start and his elbow jar against the partition, but he too was silent, save that I could hear his hurried breathing. Then some one spoke again-- "Can't you hear me there? I says, how are you getting on?" "Bob Hampton!" I cried excitedly. "Pst! Steady, my lad. Bob Hampton it is. But don't shout, or some 'un 'll hear you, and 'll come along the deck overhead and cut me adrift." "But what are you doing there?" "Hanging on to a bit o' line made fast to a belaying-pin." "But why? What do you want, sir?" "Will yer keep quiet, my lad?" whispered the man, excitedly. "I don't want to hear old Jarette sawing through this rope. What do I want? Come, I like that, arter risking all this here to get a word with you."