I had hollowed out my living grave to fit, and if I could
have smoked, I should have been decidedly comfortable. Sleep I dared
not indulge in, and the sequel showed that I was right in not allowing
myself that luxury.
I hadn't much more than comfortably settled myself, and let thoughts
of a cigar and a nap flit through my mind, when a row up the street
showed that the jail-breaking had been discovered. Then followed
shouts and confusion for a few moments, while a search was being
organized. I heard some horsemen ride over the tracks, and also down
the street, followed by the hurried footsteps of half a dozen men.
Some banged at the doors of the specials, while others knocked at the
station door.
One of the Cullens' servants opened the door of 218, and I heard the
sheriff's voice telling him he'd got to search the car. The darky
protested, saying that the "gentmun was all away, and only de miss
inside." The row brought Miss Cullen to the door, and I heard her ask
what was the matter.
"Sorry to trouble yer, miss," said the sheriff, "but a prisoner has
broken jail, and we've got to look for him."
"Escaped!" cried Madge, joyfully. "How?"
"That's just what gits away with me," marvelled the sheriff. "My idee
is--"
"Don't waste time on theories," said Camp's voice, angrily. "Search
the car."
"Sorry to discommode a lady," apologized the sheriff, gallantly, "but
if we may just look around a little?"
"My father and brothers went out a few minutes ago," said Madge,
hesitatingly, "and I don't know if they would be willing.
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