The days passed. Captain Mortimer sat with bowed head and heavy brow, resisting Valerie’s archest smiles and brightest sallies. The fine appetite he had displayed on the occasion of the first breakfast had deserted him and Valerie’s choicest dishes went back practically untouched. Was there anything she could get for him? No; nothing. Was there anything special he would like prepared? No; absolutely nothing. To all her questions only the same brief, though polite, negatives. Valerie was in despair. Alone with Dean, the one topic was escape. They had again carefully examined the cabin. There were two portholes on each side--too small to permit of the egress of even a boy’s body--and the floors, walls and ceilings were certainly too strongly constructed to be open to successful attack by men whose only tools were two pocket knives and a sword. Evidently their only possible chance was by the door. To the door, then, they turned their attention. It was too strong to give way to any sudden onslaught and any extended work upon it would certainly be heard by the sentinel outside. Besides, the Professor pointed out, even if they did succeed in breaking through and getting past the sentry, they would doubtless be quickly surrounded and overpowered by the other men of the camp. “It’s probably true,” Mortimer replied. “But I intend to make an attempt at all hazards. It’s better to die in the valley outside, after a good hot fight, than to perish heart-broken, cooped up here.” Then began a search for methods by which they could get past the door and reach the sentinel outside. “Why not lie in wait at the door,” suggested the Professor, “and when the food is brought in we can make one spirited dash?” “No, that won’t do,” Mortimer said. “It is Valerie who brings the food; we can’t treat her so.” They discussed a plan whereby one of them was to feign illness and ask for a doctor, or other medical assistance; but it was repugnant to them both to seek advantage in any form over one who came on an ostensible errand of mercy. They at last hit upon the much simpler expedient of sending a message demanding to see the man in command. Henry, with his brutal directness, would probably jump at the conclusion that they sought some concession, or had some terms to propose. With him they would have no scruples. Accordingly, when Valerie brought in the dinner on the fourth day following the visit of the High President, the Professor broached the subject. “My dear Miss Robert--” he began. “Call me Valerie. Everybody does here. It’s so much simpler,” said the girl, as she busied herself with the table. “Ah, yes; certainly. My dear Miss Valerie--” “Simply Valerie; or you may say ‘dear Valerie,’ if you like,” replied the girl, archly.