Harry had not much knowledge of the world, however, and would have been surprised to hear that Congreve was more dangerous and unscrupulous, and altogether bad, than Philip himself, in spite of the latter’s unamiable traits. After a while Harry made another attempt to loosen the cords; but the second time proved as unsuccessful as the first. Considerable time had passed—how much he did not know—but, from the direction in which the sun glanced in the wood, he concluded that it was as late as six o’clock, and by this time he was almost always at home. Indeed, supper must now be ready, and his mother and their boarder, Uncle Obed, were probably ready to sit down to the table, and only waiting for him. It was certainly very tantalizing to be lying there helpless, knowing that his mother would soon be anxious and troubled about him. “If I could only use my knife,” thought Harry. “I would make short work of these cords.” He had a knife in his pocket. If a boy has only twenty-five cents in his pocket, he is sure to spend it for some kind of a knife, or he must be very different from the average boy. So, of course, Harry was provided with a knife—a good, strong jackknife—but, for all the good it was likely to do him, it might as well have been at home. His hands being tied, of course, he could not get the knife out of his pocket; and, even if he had done so, how could he make use of it? “I never knew twine was so strong before,” thought poor Harry, ruefully, after a third unsuccessful attempt to get free. He lay a while longer, getting more and more hopeless of an early release. By this time his appetite began to assert itself. He had not eaten a very hearty dinner, and naturally felt all the more hungry now. He began to think wistfully of the good bread and butter and slices of cold meat and pie which his mother was wont to provide for the evening meal, and some twinges of excusable envy were felt, as he pictured James Congreve and Philip, who had brought this trouble upon him, sitting down at a well-covered supper table, eating as heartily as if they had not left a victim in the woods, helpless and hungry. “I suppose I shall have to stay here all night,” thought poor Harry, despondently. In the morning he was confident of being released. James Congreve had promised that he would come and release him, and Harry felt confident that he would do so. Had it depended upon Philip, there would be small chance of it; but it was easy to see that Philip and Congreve were not alike. Of course, this gave him hope, but it was not pleasant to think of a night passed in the dark wood; not that Harry was timid or superstitious—he was neither—but it is hard not to be somewhat affected by gloomy surroundings. While Harry was occupied with these reflections, suddenly a peculiar sound came to his ears, and, looking up, he was startled by the sight of a blacksnake, at least four feet long, which, with head erect, was gazing intently at him.