Teeny-bits Holbrook was not the sort to give up hope quickly. When, after struggling vainly against his bonds, he had exhausted his strength and had at last lain back panting for breath, he had begun to think,—to try in some way to devise a plan that would offer hope of escape. But there seemed to be no possible loophole, no stratagem or maneuver by means of which he could win release. Inaction was galling, and, after lying still for a long time, Teeny-bits again began to struggle and twist and squirm. These bonds with which his arms and hands and feet and legs were fastened did not give way under his most violent efforts and, as previously, he exhausted himself before he had accomplished anything.

For hours Teeny-bits alternated these periods of struggling and resting. Twice he was aware that some one came into the room and went out,—evidently after watching him for a few moments. How much time had passed since his captors had pounced upon him on the hill road to Hamilton he had no means of knowing, but it seemed likely that more than half the night had gone.

In one of his struggles Teeny-bits rolled off the edge of the mattress on which he had been lying; to his surprise he did not fall with a crash some two or three feet, as he would have fallen from a bed of the usual height, but merely dropped a few inches before coming in contact with the floor. Evidently the mattress rested on springs that were laid directly on the boards. Teeny-bits rolled himself this way and that until he brought up against a wall. He was about to roll in the other direction when he realized that the folds of cloth that bound him were caught against something; from the feeling—the slight pull that was exerted against the movement of his body—he came to the conclusion that it was a nail. He wriggled a few inches length-wise along the wall, and the sound of ripping cloth came to his ears,—a sound that brought a thrill of hope. If the bonds that imprisoned him were too strong to be broken by the power of his muscles, perhaps he could tear and rip them by edging himself back and forth against the sharp projection which, judging by sound, had already effected the beginning of what he desired. By twisting and turning, he succeeded, in the course of the next five minutes, in gaining a certain amount of freedom for his arms.

When Teeny-bits had left his room in Gannett Hall to answer the telephone call he had pulled on a light sweater. Now it occurred to him that if he could catch the lower part of the sweater on the nail, he might, by working his body downward, pull the garment over his head and carry with it the stout cloth in which he was still swathed. At the cost of some skin scraped from his back, he got the nail fastened in the sweater and gradually succeeded in turning it inside out. In a minute or two he said to himself, exultantly, he would have his hands free, and then it would be quick and easy work to untie his feet.

At that moment, when escape was almost within his grasp, dreaded sounds came to his ears,—the opening of the door and the shuffle of running feet. Teeny-bits was in a hopeless position to make any resistance; the folds of tough cloth which had been wound about his body, pinioning his arms, had been pulled upward with the sweater until the whole mass was bunched across the top of his bare shoulders, and though he was able to move his arms slightly, he was still so tangled that he could do nothing except await whatever fate was in store for him. Two persons came into the room; he heard them speak sharply and knew then that they were Chinese; there was no mistaking the outlandish inflection of vowel and consonant. In a second rough hands were laid upon him and he was dragged away from the wall. He gave a few last futile wrenches and then lay still, face down, on the floor.

His captors had him at their mercy; they could do with him what they wished. One of them was pulling at the folds of cloth; Teeny-bits could feel the man's hands on his bare back. Suddenly the hands paused in their work; then the sweater was pushed an inch or two higher and there came to Teeny-bits' ears one of the strangest sounds that he had ever heard: an exclamation, a startled cry in syllables that, though wild and meaningless in themselves, conveyed an unmistakable effect,—discovery and the highest degree of astonishment. This strange cry was answered in kind by another voice, and Teeny-bits felt the two Chinese fumbling at his back with trembling fingers. To his surprise he realized, after a moment, that they were loosening the bonds, that they were freeing his arms and legs and removing the folds over his mouth and eyes.

In a few moments Teeny-bits sat up and looked about him; he had the same sensation that a person sometimes experiences on waking at night in a room away from home and finding the walls too near or too far and windows where they should not be. He had imagined himself in a wide, high, dimly lighted room with two villainous-looking desperadoes bending over him with weapons plainly displayed. He found himself in a low-ceilinged, box-like, little room lighted by a flaring gas jet, with two astonished-looking Chinese gazing at him with slant eyes that seemed to be almost popping from their heads. They were jabbering their outlandish tongue up and down the singsong scale as if here before them, sitting on the floor, were a new species of being, newly discovered and strange beyond imagination. Teeny-bits did not know what to make of them; he blinked his eyes and remained sitting there, wondering what would happen next. Both of the Chinese seemed to be asking him questions and they were pointing at him in a way that brought the thought to Teeny-bits that they were both insane. Then he suddenly realized what was the cause of their excitement—one of them came closer and pointed down at his shoulder—at the terra-cotta colored mark which had excited comment at Ridgley School because it so strikingly resembled a dagger-like knife with a tapering blade and a thin handle.

"What's the idea of all this business?" demanded Teeny-bits.

The Oriental who stood beside him bent down and touched the mark as if trying to discover if it were real. He called out something to his companion and a flow of words passed between them.

Teeny-bits stood up stiffly and began to pull on his torn sweater, while the two Chinese watched him with fascinated eyes.

"Why did you bring me here?" he demanded. "Are you crazy, or what is the matter with you?"

The two Chinese blinked at him vacantly; either they did not understand English or pretended not to. Suddenly one of them got down on his knees and began a queer song-like jabbering in which his companion joined.

Teeny-bits did not wait to listen, but began to move toward the door; he expected the men to jump in front of him and bar the way, but neither of them stirred until he was actually stepping out of the room. Teeny-bits ran stiffly down a dimly lighted flight of steps, then down another flight and out into a dark alleyway. Behind him he could hear the soft pattering of feet; the two Chinese were not far in the rear. Determined to waste no time in escaping, he dashed down the alley and came into a dark street; he ran faster and faster as the stiffness in his legs lessened, turning into one street after another, and he did not stop until he was breathing hard and had left the place of his captivity several hundred yards behind. He looked back then and listened. Apparently he had distanced pursuit, for no sounds of pattering feet came to his ears and he caught no glimpse of the two Chinese who had acted so strangely.

At any rate he was free,—though he did not know where he was; the streets down which he had been running were deserted; the houses were of brick tenement structure and stood close together. He went on at a swift walk, turning every few steps to look over his shoulder, and presently he came to a building which he recognized. It was the market that faced Stanley Square in Greensboro, a yellow brick building with a tall tower and a clock. As Teeny-bits gazed upward, trying to read the position of the hour hand in the half-light of the street lamps, the big timepiece boomed out two strokes. It was two o'clock.

Teeny-bits turned south along Walnut Street in the direction of Hamilton. When he had attended the high school in Greensboro he had gone twice each day on his bicycle over the four miles of road between the village and the bustling young city. He now set out at a swift walk, and as soon as he had passed the outskirts of Greensboro, he jogged along at a pace that kept him warm, in spite of his scanty attire and the nipping air.

Twice, while still on the city streets, he had passed belated pedestrians and once he had glimpsed a policeman under a street lamp. He had not paused, however, for his one desire was to get home and to discover if his father had been injured. It had occurred to him that perhaps he should report his experience to the police, but the thought then came to him that they might detain him,—and the one thing that he wanted now was freedom. So he went on swiftly toward Hamilton and before three o'clock was approaching the house that he had always known as home. All of the windows were dark,—a reassuring sign. If anything terrible had happened, surely there would be a light in the house.

Teeny-bits went round to the rear and tried the kitchen windows till he found that one was unlocked. Cautiously he let himself in; he did not intend to waken father and mother Holbrook unless there was evidence that something had happened. The kitchen was warm, and the cat, which always slept in a chair beside the woodbox, jumped down softly to the floor and came over to rub her body against his leg. Teeny-bits reached down and stroked the cat's soft coat; somehow, the contented purring of the creature convinced him that nothing was wrong in the house. He unlaced his shoes and tiptoed upstairs; in the hall he paused to listen; the quietness of the house was broken only by a faint but regular breathing; it came from the bedroom where old Daniel Holbrook slept. So all was right, after all.

With a great feeling of relief, Teeny-bits groped his way along the hall to the rear and opened the door to his own room. Suddenly he felt very tired and it seemed to him that he could not get into bed quickly enough. He pulled off his clothes, raised one of the windows, and in a moment had settled down upon the comfortable mattress and had pulled the covers up to his chin. He said to himself that he would sleep a little while and early in the morning hurry up to the school. A pleasant feeling of relaxation stole over him, his thoughts merged into drowsy half-dreams and almost immediately he sank into a slumber deeper than any he had experienced for many days.

He slept on and on; morning light came softly in at the curtained windows; in the front of the house his father and mother rose and went downstairs, and after a time old Daniel Holbrook went leisurely to his duties at the station. Still Teeny-bits slept his deep sleep and only the cat knew that he was in the house.

Just after twelve o'clock Daniel Holbrook came home to dinner; he stopped in the back yard for an armful of wood and entering the kitchen, dropped it in the box beside the stove. The rumble penetrated to the rooms above, and Teeny-bits sat up abruptly in bed, wide awake in a flash. This was the day of the big game; it was morning; he must hurry up to the school; he began hunting in the closet for fresh clothes and pulling them on in desperate haste. He was two thirds dressed when his door was pushed slowly open and father and mother Holbrook peered cautiously in; the look that he surprised on their faces was so ludicrous that he laughed.

"Land sakes alive, Teeny-bits!" cried Ma Holbrook. "What a tremulo you gave me. How'd you get here? Your pa and I heard you movin' around and I thought sure it was burglars!"

Teeny-bits sat on the edge of the bed and laughed and laughed,—it seemed so good to see them both alive and well; and old Daniel Holbrook, holding the dangerous-looking stick of wood that he carried up from the kitchen to use in dealing with burglars, slapped his thigh and laughed harder than Teeny-bits.

"Don't tell me you've been here all night!" he said at last.

"I came in through the kitchen window after you were asleep and I didn't want to disturb you," said Teeny-bits. "I was looking for a good sleep before the big game."

"I guess you got it all right," said Daniel Holbrook.

"What time is it?" asked Teeny-bits.

The station agent hauled out his big silver watch, looked at it critically and announced: "Twenty-nine minutes past twelve."

"Past twelve!" repeated Teeny-bits. "It can't be."

Daniel Holbrook swung round the face of the watch and proved the correctness of his statement. "Kinder late for a boy to be gettin' up," he remarked with a chuckle.

Teeny-bits had made an instant resolve that this kindly couple who were father and mother to him should not be burdened with his troubles. He jumped to his feet and cried:

"The game starts in an hour and a half; I've got to hustle up there."

"Not until you've eaten," said Ma Holbrook, firmly. "Dinner's ready this minute."

Teeny-bits did a bit of swift mental calculation; the team was already at lunch; he could not reach the gymnasium in time to be with them; it would be better to eat here and join the squad at the field.

"I don't want much," he said. "Just a little and then I'll have to go."

"I'll hitch up Jed," said Daniel Holbrook, "and we'll all ride up together; your ma and I were intendin' to start pretty soon, anyway."

Thus it happened that Teeny-bits Holbrook rode up to the game behind the sorrel horse and arrived at the locker building fifteen minutes before the contest was scheduled to begin. While the sound of the preliminary cheering and singing rang in his ears he pulled on his football togs in frantic haste, dashed out of the building and ran along behind the stands until he came to the opening that led underneath to the field itself. He appeared at the players' shelter just as Coach Murray was about to shout out the order for Neil to bring the team in off the field.

Mr. Murray's features wore an expression that was sterner than any that had been seen on his face that fall. The Ridgley team had been experiencing a species of stage fright. It seemed that Neil Durant was the only one of the back-field who could hold the ball. Campbell and Stillson and Dean had fumbled again and again, and Campbell was the worst of the three. When the coach saw Teeny-bits he closed his mouth with a click and looked the left-half back through and through with eyes that blazed; he laid rough hands on the newcomer's shoulders and said in a voice that rasped:

"Do you want to play in this game?"

As Teeny-bits had come running from the locker building and heard the volume of cheering, the fear had grown larger and larger that he was too late—that the game had started, that he had lost his chance. He felt an overwhelming eagerness and he meant every word of his answer to Coach Murray's question.

"I think I'll die if you don't let me," he said, and his face wore such a look of earnestness and appeal that the coach's grim expression relaxed a little.

"Don't stop to explain why you 're late—I hope you have a good excuse—but run out there and tell Campbell to come in."