In the closet Jack soon found a long, slim knife, and with it set to work digging out the clay and moss between two logs near the center of the back. It was slow work, as the clay was almost as hard as cement, but he stuck at it and in the course of an hour had a hole through large enough to give a clear view of the ground at the back.
“Now for the sides,” he said, as he selected a point near the middle.
Meantime Stebbins had been fed small amounts of the gruel at frequent intervals and was gaining his strength rapidly, although he had been forbidden to get out of the bunk.
“I don’t suppose it’s any use to tell you how sorry I am,” he said to Rex, who was sitting by his side.
“That’s all right, old fellow, I think I understand what you were up against and your resolve to make good, even though it cost you your life has wiped out all the fault,” Rex assured him.
A look of great joy lighted up the thin face of the man.
“Then you can forgive me?”
“Sure thing, and forget it, too.”
“But your father.”
“Will feel exactly as I do about it,” Rex assured him, as he took his hand.