“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, at any rate,” said Bruce, in a harsh, constrained voice; “_I’ll go back to that hole, if I die for it_.” “You!” cried Bart. “Yes,” said Bruce, standing with his fists close clinched, and his brow darkly frowning; “yes, I; you fellows may come or stay, just as you like.” A man’s courage must be measured from his own idea of danger. A couple of hundred years ago many acts were brave which to-day are commonplace. To defy the superstitions of the age may be a sign of transcendent courage. Now, of all these boys Bruce was by far the most superstitious; yet he was the first who offered to go back to face _That_ from which they had all fled. It was an effort of pure pluck. It was a grand recoil from the superstitious timidity of his weaker self. Buoyed up by his lofty pride and sense of shame, he crushed down the fear that rose within him, and his very superstition made his act all the more courageous. And as he spoke those last words, before the others had time to say anything in reply, he turned abruptly, and strode back with firm steps towards the cellar. So he stalked off, steeling his shaking nerves and rousing up the resources of his lofty nature. By that victory over the flesh he grew calm, and walked steadily back into the dark, ready to encounter any danger that might be lingering there--an example of splendid courage and conquest over fear. But he did not long walk alone. Before he had taken a dozen steps the others were with him, and in a short time they were all in the hole again. Bart proceeded to light the extinguished candles, while Bruce quietly picked up the spades, assisted by the other boys. Soon all the lights were burning, and Bart joined the little knot of boys who were standing in the centre of the cellar. “Well,” said he, coolly, “the old question is before us--What are we to do now? Shall we stay here and dig, or shall we go home and go to bed? For my part, if you wish to dig I’ll dig; but at the same time I think we’d better retire, taking our things with us, and postpone our digging till another time.” “I won’t say anything about it,” said Bruce. “I’ll do either. One thing, however, I promise not to do; whatever happens, I won’t run again.” “The fact is,” said Arthur, “there’s no use talking about digging any more to-night. It was all very well while we were in the humor. It was all fun; but the fun has gone; we’ve disgraced ourselves. What _That_ was I don’t pretend to know; but it may have been a trick. If so, we’re watched. And I don’t think any of us feel inclined to dig here with some of the other fellows giggling at us from among the trees.” “It may have been the Gaspereaugians,” said Phil. Suddenly a heavy sigh was heard, not far away. “Hu-s-s-s-s-s-s-h!” said Bart; “what’s that?” “That? One of the cows,” said Tom.