"Where am I?"

 

A few rays of light entered at the sliding-door above, and to this his eyes were naturally drawn².

 

Here was another puzzle. He explored his memory, and could recall no such place as this. He had never before been in such a room.

 

At last he recalled the circumstances under which he fell asleep, and he jumped to the conclusion that he was in the same house still.

 

"They must have put me to bed," he said to himself. "They were very kind; but this is a queer room."

 

Thus far no thought that he was a prisoner had entered his mind.

 

He arose and began to feel his way around by the walls. He judged that he was in a room not more than ten feet square. He could form no idea what was the time. It might be the middle of the night, so far as he knew.

 

"This is awkward," he thought. "I don't fancy being shut up like this. Where's the door? There must be one somewhere."

 

He found it at last, and tried the lock, but it did not yield to his efforts.

 

Then came the startling thought:

 

"Am I a prisoner?"

 

He stopped short and thought over the situation. He recalled all he could of the men in whose company he had been at the time he went to sleep. The longer he thought the more it seemed probable that it was as he suspected.

 

Though a little startled at this view of the situation, Jasper was by no means disposed to be despondent³. His courage arose with the difficulties of his position.

 

"I'll find out how matters stand," he said to himself. "I'll pound till somebody comes."

 

He began to pound on the walls of the room with such effect that the old man below heard him.

 

"The bird is beating against the walls of his cage," he thought. "I'll go up and see him."

 

Presently Jasper heard steps ascending

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