"I'll have him change places with me."
"Good! How many men are here?"
"You don't need to know that. There's enough to bury you."
"Have Meeker and Terrill gone?"
"Tom? He's in the next room here, and can count it a mercy of the
saints if he gits out in a week. Meeker's gone with the old man. Well,
I can't stay a-gabbin' any longer, or I'll be caught, and then the
divil himsilf couldn't save me."
I shuddered at the thought of the "old man," and the shadow of
Doddridge Knapp weighed on my spirits.
"Are you ready for an excursion, Fitzhugh?" I whispered.
He nodded assent.
"Well, we'll be out of here in a minute or two. Take that overcoat.
I've got one. Now tie that blanket to the bedpost. No, it won't be long
enough. You'll have to hold it for us, boys."
I heard the change of guards below, and, giving directions to
Wainwright, with funds to settle our account with the house, I blew out
the lamp, quietly swung open the shutter and leaned over the sill.
"Hold on to the blanket, boys. Follow me, Fitz," I whispered, and
climbed out. The strain on my injured arm as I swung off gave me a
burning pain, but I repressed the groan that came into my throat. I
half-expected a bullet to bring me to the ground in a hurry, for I was
not over-trustful of the good faith of Mother Borton's friend. But I
got to the ground in safety, and was relieved when Fitzhugh stood
beside me, and the improvised rope was drawn up.
"Where now?" whispered Fitzhugh.
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