ever done; including the theft of a ride, for which he was paying the
penalty. And meantime, with another part of his mind, he was plotting and
seeking. He must not die here like a rat in a hole. There must be some
way.

He tried every inch of the car--of the floor and ceiling and walls.
But there was not a loose plank nor a crack--the car was new. And that
suggested another idea--that he might suffocate before he starved. He
was beginning to feel weak and dizzy.

If only he had a knife. He could have cut a hole for air and then
perhaps enlarged it and broken out a board. He found a spike on the
floor and began tapping round the walls for a place that sounded thin;
but they all sounded thick--how thick he had no idea. He began picking
splinters away at the juncture of two planks.

Meantime hunger and thirst continued to gnaw at him. At long intervals
he would pause while a train roared by, or because he fancied he had
heard a sound. Then he would pound and call until he was hoarse, and
then go on picking at the splinters.

And so on, for an unknown number of hours, but certainly for days and
nights. And Samuel was famished and wild and weak and gasping; when at
last it dawned upon his senses that a passing train had begun to make
less noise--that the thumping was growing slower. The train was
stopping.

He leaped up and began to pound. Then he realized that he must control
himself--he must save his strength until the train had stopped. But
suppose it went on without delay? He began to pound again and to shout