" "That's well!" cried Jack. During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. I've a question to ask him. She told us that it was a disguise. But between us, we'll have him writing books some day. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. Not a word passed between them. When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found.
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