If only he had a knife. He could have cut a hole for air and then perhaps enlarged it and broken out a board. He found a spike on the floor and began tapping round the walls for a place that sounded thin; but they all sounded thick--how thick he had no idea. He began picking splinters away at the juncture of two planks. Meantime hunger and thirst continued to gnaw at him. At long intervals he would pause while a train roared by, or because he fancied he had heard a sound. Then he would pound and call until he was hoarse, and then go on picking at the splinters. And so on, for an unknown number of hours, but certainly for days and nights. And Samuel was famished and wild and weak and gasping; when at last it dawned upon his senses that a passing train had begun to make less noise--that the thumping was growing slower. The train was stopping. He leaped up and began to pound. Then he realized that he must control himself--he must save his strength until the train had stopped. But suppose it went on without delay? He began to pound again and to shout like a madman. The train stopped and there was silence; then came sounds of cars being coupled--and meantime Samuel was kicking and beating upon the wall. He was almost exhausted and in despair--when suddenly from outside came a muffled call--“Hello!” For a moment he could not speak. Then “Help! Help!” he shrieked. “What's the matter?” asked the voice. “I'm locked in,” he called. . “How'd you get in?” “They locked me in by accident. I'm nearly dead.” “Who are you?” “I was riding in the car.” “A tramp, hey? Serves ye right! Better stay there!” “No! No!” screamed the boy, in terror. “I'm starving--I've been here for days. For heaven's sake let me out--I'll never do it again.” “If I let you out,” said the voice, “it's my business to arrest you.” “All right,” cried Samuel. “Anything--but don't leave me here.” There was a moment's silence. “Have you got any money?” asked the voice. “Yes. Yes--I've got money.” “Don't yell so loud. How much?” “Why--what?” “How much?” “I've got eighty dollars.” “All right. Give it to me and I'll let you out.” Frantic as he was, this staggered Samuel. “I can't give you all my money,” he cried. “All right then,” said the other. “Stay there.” “No, no!” he protested. “Wait! Leave me just a little.” “I'll leave you five dollars,” said the voice. “Speak up! Quick!” “All right,” said Samuel faintly. “I'll give it to you.” “Mind! No nonsense now!” “No. Let me out!” “I'll bat you over the head if you try it,” growled the voice; and the boy stood trembling while the hasp was unfastened and the door was pushed back a little. The light of a lantern flashed in through the crack, blinding him. “Now hand out the money,” said the stranger, standing at one side for safety. “Yes,” said Samuel, fumbling with the pin in his waistcoat. “But I can't see to count it.” “Be quick! I'll count it!”