"Your breakfast is all ready, Ernest," said old Betsey, the housekeeper, as I approached the back door. "Where are my uncle and the gentleman?" I asked. "They told me they were going down to Parkville, and I need not wait breakfast for them." I went into the dining-room and sat down at the table, as much for the purpose of getting something for Kate as to eat myself. I was scarcely seated, when I was thrown over backwards, chair and all, and found myself lying on the floor, held down by Tom Thornton. CHAPTER X. IN WHICH ERNEST STRIKES A HEAVY BLOW FOR LIBERTY. "DEAR me! Good gracious! Why!" screamed Betsey, when Tom Thornton threw me upon the floor. "I thought you'd gone off with Mr. Thornton. What in the world are you going to do? Let the poor boy alone!" Betsey did not think I was having fair play, and old and stiff as she was, she rushed up to Tom, apparently with the intention of interfering. "Out of the way, old woman!" growled Tom. "Go and get me a rope." "A rope! I won't get you any rope! And if you don't let the poor boy alone, I'll go out and call the neighbors," replied Betsey, bustling about the room as though she intended to do some desperate thing. For my own part, I felt that it would be useless for me to resist. Tom was strong, and I was wholly in his power--taken by surprise, and at a disadvantage which I could not overcome. I lay still, therefore, and thus saved some hard knocks. "What are you going to do with the poor boy? He shan't be treated so!" persisted Betsey, who had not talked so much before for ten years. "Be still, old woman! He's a bad boy. He stole my horse, and ran away with a little girl. I shall not hurt him if he behaves himself," replied Tom, who appeared to be afraid she would call in some person to take my part. "You act like a brute. You treat him worse than an ox," continued Betsey. "Now get up, sir," said Tom to me, still retaining his hold upon my coat collar. He helped me to my feet. Being vanquished, I had nothing to say, and I uttered no complaint. When I rose, he tied my hands behind me with his handkerchief. I submitted because it would have been folly for me to resist; but I intended to watch my opportunity, and submit no longer than necessity compelled me to do so. My brutal conqueror took me by the collar, led me into the hall, and thence into the cellar. In one corner there was a kind of closet partitioned off with brick walls, which had been built for a milk-room; but as my uncle kept but one cow, it was seldom used. There was no window in it, and a more damp, dark, and disagreeable dungeon it would be difficult for a boy of sixteen to imagine. It had a heavy wooden door, and altogether the place looked as hopeless as it was gloomy. Tom led me up to the door and thrust me in, with my hands still tied behind me. The only ray of hope I could obtain was derived from the fact that there was no lock on the door.