"I mean to settle his hash for him," said the first. Kit saw that he was in danger, and turned to run back to his friends. But it was too late! The first speaker laid a strong arm upon his shoulder, and his boyish strength was not able to overcome it. "Don't be in such a hurry, kid," said his captor. "Let me go," cried Kit. "You belong to the circus, don't you?" "Yes." "What do you do?" "I am an acrobat." "What's that?" "I leap and turn somersaults, and so on." "Yes, I know. Do you remember me?" "I might if it were lighter." The man lit a match and held it close to his face. "Do you know me now?" "Yes." "Who am I?" "You are the man who tried to cut the ropes of the tent." "Right you are. I would have succeeded but for you." "I suppose you would." "Did you call that giant to pitch into me?" "No; I didn't know he was near." "He treated me like a brute," said the man, wrathfully. "My limbs are aching now from the fall he gave me." Kit did not answer. "I'd like to give him a broken head, as he gave some of my friends. Where is he?" "I suppose he is somewhere in the lot. I'll go and call him, if you want me to." "That's too thin! Now I've got you I won't let you off so easy." "What do you intend to do?" asked Kit becoming alarmed. "To give you a lesson." Kit did not ask what kind of a lesson was meant, but he feared it included bodily injury. Then at least, if never before, he wished himself back at his uncle's house in Smyrna, uncongenial as it was otherwise. The first speaker spoke in a low voice to the second. Kit did not hear the words, but judged what they were from what followed. The two men placed him beside them, and he was sternly ordered to move on. They kept the road for perhaps half a mile, then turned off into a narrow lane which appeared to ascend a hill. Finally they stopped in front of a dark cabin, of one story, which seemed to be unoccupied. The outer door was fastened by a bolt. One of the men drew out a bolt, and threw open the door. A dark interior was revealed. One of the men lit a match, throwing a fitful light upon an empty room. At one end of the apartment was a ring, fixed in a beam, and in the corner was a stout rope. "That will do," said the first speaker. He took the rope, secured one end of it to the ring, and then tied Kit firmly with the balance. It was long enough to allow of his lying down. "Now," said the first man grimly, "I reckon the kid will be safe here till to-morrow." They prepared to leave the cabin. "Are you going to leave me here?" asked Kit, in dismay. "Yes." "What good will it do you?" "You'll see--to-morrow."