At last, after he had tried
all sorts of things, he took his banjo and went under the tower
window and sang a little song that Margaret had made up, when they
were children together." Here Alan paused to smile meaningly at
Polly, before he went on. "It was a very sweet song, and his voice
was loud enough so Margaret heard him and opened a window to peek
out. She knew him as soon as she saw him, and she wrote a letter
and tied it to a string and let it down to him. He read it and
wrote an answer, and was just getting ready to send it up, the
same way, when a great, fierce ruffian with a bloodhound pounced
on him, and threw him into the very darkest dungeon in the cellar
of the tower. He was pretty much scared, for he was all in the
dark, and he was without any food or anything to drink, and he
only had his banjo to comfort him. But he was so glad it wasn't
Margaret that was there, that he didn't much mind anything else.
But that wasn't the worst of it. His prison walls kept growing
smaller and smaller, till by and by it began to get so tight that
it hurt him. It didn't stop, even then, but it grew so small that
his bones began to break, till finally he found that he only had
one whole one left.
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