And perhaps some day-- There hope crept in,--a faint, weary-winged, bedraggled hope, it is true,--to comfort him a little.

He was not down and out--yet! He could still show them that he had the stuff in him to make good.
He went to the window and listened eagerly.

Once more he heard the high, strident droning of the Thunder Bird.

He watched, pressing his forehead against the bars.

The sound increased steadily, and Johnny, gripping the bars until his fingers cramped afterwards, felt a suffocating beat in his throat.