The prospect was tantalizing, but Philip still felt afraid to appropriate one of his father’s bonds. If it had been a fear of doing wrong, I should be glad to say so, but it was more a fear of consequences. “After all,” he said, “perhaps I may win it back, and then there won’t be any need of raising money. You said you would give me the chance.” “So I will. You can come to my room now, if you like, and try your luck.” So Philip went, like a fly into the spider’s parlor, and the natural result followed. When he left the hotel he had increased his debt to forty dollars, and the prospect looked darker than ever. As he walked home, it is doubtful if he did not feel more uncomfortable than our unfortunate hero, whom we left, bound hand and foot, in Pegan Hill Wood. CHAPTER XVI — BOUND HAND AND FOOT Though Harry was a courageous boy, his heart sank within him when he found himself left alone in the wood, bound hand and foot. Pegan Hill Woods were of considerable extent. In length they extended about three miles, while in width they ranged from a mile and a half to two miles. Probably the party had penetrated nearly a mile into the wood, and the tree against which Harry was leaning was not far from the center of the wood. The constrained position in which he was sitting became, after a while, somewhat painful. The cords, too, chafed his flesh. Of course, Harry thought of the possibility of escape. If he could only unloose the cords he could readily find his way home, reaching there before anxiety or alarm was excited by his absence. He set to work upon his task, but found, to his disappointment, that he had been too securely bound to make this attempt feasible. The cord was tied again and again in so hard a knot that, even if he had had the use of both of his hands, he would have found it a work of time to undo them. But when, in addition, his hands were tied, it became well-nigh impossible. He worked until he was tired, and rested, feeling that thus far he had really accomplished nothing. “Philip is about the meanest boy I know of,” he thought to himself, bitterly. “I suppose he is triumphing over me, as he has a right to do, for he has got me into a very awkward scrape.” This consideration was not likely to make him any less uncomfortable, for Harry had his share of human nature. From Philip his mind reverted to James Congreve. The more he thought of Congreve, the less he could understand him. He was certainly a much more gentlemanly boy—or, rather, young man—than Philip, and our hero disliked him less, though it was Congreve who had tied him. “He told Philip to his face that he was a bully, and as much as said that I had served him right in doing what I did in defense of the two children. I don’t see how he can be a friend of Philip.”