Dan found himself at first bewildered and confused by his sudden descent into the cellar. As his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he was able to get an idea of his surroundings. It was a common cellar with an earthen floor. Ranged along one side was a row of kegs, some containing whisky, others empty. Besides, there were a few boxes and odds and ends which had been placed here to get them out of the way.

"Not a very cheerful-looking place," thought Dan, "though I do get it rent free."

He sat down on a box, and began to consider his position. Was there any way of escape? The walls were solid, and although there was a narrow window, consisting of a row of single panes, it was at the top of the cellar, and not easily accessible. He might indeed reach it by the ladder, but he would have to break the glass and crawl through, a mode of escape likely to be attended by personal risk.

"No, that won't do," thought Dan. "At any rate, I won't try it till other things fail."

Meanwhile Donovan, in the bar-room above, was in high good humor. He felt that he had done a sharp thing, and more than once chuckled as he thought of his prisoner below. Indeed he could not forbear, after about half an hour, lifting the trap and calling down stairs:

"Hallo, there!"

"Hallo!" said Dan, coolly.

"What are you doin'?"

"Sitting on a box."

"How do you like it?" chuckled Donovan.

"Come down and see."

"You're an impudent jackanapes!" retorted Donovan, wrathfully. "You'll get enough of it before you're through."

"So will you," answered Dan, boldly.

"I'll take the risk," chuckled Donovan. "Do you know what you remind me of?"

"Suppose you tell me."

"You're like a rat in a trap."

"Not exactly," answered Dan, as a bright thought dawned upon him.

"Why not?"

"Because a rat can do no harm, and I can."

It occurred to Donovan that Dan might have some matches in his pocket, and was momentarily alarmed at the thought that our hero might set the house on fire.

"Have you matches with you?" he asked.

"No," answered Dan.

"If you had," said the saloon-keeper, relieved, "it would do you no good to set a fire. You would only burn yourself up."

"I don't mean to set the house on fire," said Dan, composedly.

"Then you may do your worst. You can't scare me."

"Can't I?" returned Dan, rising from his seat on the box.

"What are you going to do?" asked Donovan, following with his glance the boy's motion.

"I'll tell you," said Dan. "I'm going to take the spigot out of them whisky-kegs, and let the whisky run out on the floor."

"Don't you do it!" exclaimed the saloon-keeper, now thoroughly frightened.

"Then let me up."

"I won't."

"All right. You must take the consequences."

As he spoke Dan dextrously pulled the spigot from a keg, and Donovan, to his dismay, heard the precious liquid—precious in his eyes—pouring out upon the floor.

With an exertion he raised the trap-door, hastily descended the ladder, and rushed to the keg to replace the spigot.

Meanwhile Dan ran up the ladder, pulled it after him, and made his late jailer a captive.

"Put down the ladder, you young rascal!" roared Donovan, when, turning from his work, he saw how the tables had been turned.

"It wouldn't be convenient just yet," answered Dan, coolly.

He shut the trap-door, hastily lugged the ladder to the rear of the house (unobserved, for there were no customers present), then dashed up stairs and beckoned to Althea to follow him. There was no obstacle, for Mrs. Donovan was stupefied by liquor.

Putting on her things, the little girl hastily and gladly obeyed.

As they passed through the saloon, Donovan's execrations and shouts were heard proceeding from the cellar.

"What's that, Dan?" asked Althea, trembling.

"Never you mind, Althea," said Dan. "I'll tell you later."

The two children hurried to the nearest horse-car, which luckily came up at the moment, and jumped on board.

Dan looked back with a smile at the saloon, saying to himself:

"I rather think, Mr. Donovan, you've found your match this time. I hope you'll enjoy the cellar as much as I did."

In about an hour and a half Dan, holding Althea by the hand, triumphantly led her into his mother's presence.

"I've brought her back, mother," he said.

"Oh, my dear, dear little girl!" exclaimed Mrs. Mordaunt, joyfully. "I thought I should never, never see you again. How did you find her, Dan?"

But we will not wait to hear a twice-told tale. Rather let us return to Donovan, where the unhappy proprietor is still a captive in his own cellar. Here he remained till his cries attracted the attention of a wondering customer, who finally lifted the trap-door.

"What are you doin' down there?" he asked, amazed.

"Put down the ladder and let me up first of all."

"I don't see any ladder."

"Look round, then. I suppose the cursed boy has hidden it."

It was a considerable time before the ladder was found. Then the saloon-keeper emerged from his prison in a very bad humor.

"How did you get shut up there?" asked his liberator.

"What business is it of yours?" demanded Donovan, irritably.

"I wish I had left you there," said the customer, with justifiable indignation. "This is your gratitude for my trouble, is it?"

"Excuse me, but I'm so mad with that cursed boy. What'll you take? It's my treat."

"Come, that's talking," said the placated customer. "What boy do you mean?"

"Wait a minute," said Donovan, a sudden fear possessing him.

He rushed up stairs and looked for Althea.

His wife was lying on the floor, breathing heavily, but the little girl was gone.

"The boy's got her! What a cursed fool I have been!" exclaimed Donovan, sinking into a chair.

Then, in a blind fury with the wife who didn't prevent the little girl's recapture, he seized a pail of water and emptied it over the face of the prostrate woman.

Mrs. Donovan came to, and berated her husband furiously.

"Serves you right, you jade!" said the affectionate husband.

He went down stairs feeling better. He had had revenge on somebody.

It was certainly an unlucky day for the Donovans.