He caught his breath, and went on:
'That black-hearted devil hed tied my feet so close I could sca'cely hobble, an' my hands an' wrists hed all puffed an' swelled up, whar the cords had been—'twar the sher'ff ez gin me the handcuffs. Waal, I tuk steps 'bout two inches long till I got 'crost the shop ter the hole. Then I jes' flopped down an' croped through. I didn't stan' up outside, though 'twar at the back o' the shop an' nobody could see me. Ye know the aidge o' the bluff ain't five feet from the shop; the cliff's ez sheer ez a wall, but thar's a ledge 'bout twenty feet down. It looked mighty narrer, an' thar warn't no vines ter swing by; but I jes' hed ter think o' them devils on t'other side the shop ter make me willin' ter resk it. Waal, thar war a clump o' sass'fras—ye know the bark's tough—near the aidge. I jes' bruk one o' the shoots ter the root an' turned it down over the aidge o' the bluff an' swung on ter the e-end o' it. Waal, it tore off in my hands, but I didn't fall more'n a few feet, an' lighted on the ledge. An' I tossed the saplin' away, an' then I walked—steps 'bout'n two inches long, ef that—ez fur ez the ledge went, cornsider'ble way from the Settlemint, an' 'twar two or three hundred feet ter the bottom, whar I stopped. An' thar war a niche thar whar I could sit an' lay down, sorter. Thar I bided all night. I hearn 'em huntin', an' it made me laff. I knowed they warn't a-goin' ter find me, but I didn't know how I war a-going' ter git away from thar with them handcuffs on, an' ropes 'roun' my legs; they war knotted so ez I couldn't reach 'em fur the irons. I waited all nex' day, though I never hed nuthin' ter eat but some jew-berries ez growed 'mongst the rocks thar. An' the nex' morn'n','—his eye dilated with triumph—'the swellin' o' my wrists hed gone down, an' I could draw my hands out'n the handcuffs ez easy ez lyin'.'
He held up his hands; they were small for his size, and bore little token of hard work; the wrists were supple.
'An' then,' he said, with brisk conclusiveness, 'I jes' ontied the ropes 'roun' my feet an' clumb up ter the top o' the mounting by vines an' sech, an' struck inter the laurel, an' never stopped a-travellin' till I got ter Cayce's still.'
He drew a long sigh not unmixed with pleasure. He had a sense of achievement. It gave, perhaps, a certain value to his harsh experience to recount his triumph to so fair an audience. He was looking at her with a dawning smile in his eyes, and she was silently looking at him. Suddenly she burst into sobs.
'Shucks, D'rindy, it's all over an' done now,' he said, appropriating the soft sympathy of her tears.
'An' I'm so glad, Rick; so glad fur that. I'd hev bartered my hope o' heaven fur it,' she sobbed. 'But I war thinkin' that minit o' the pa'son. They 'rested him in his pulpit, an' they wouldn't gin him bail, an' they kerried him 'way from the mountings, an' jailed him, an' he'll go ter the pen'tiary, ten year mebbe, fur a crime ez he never done. Ye wouldn't let him do that ef ye could holp it, would ye, Rick?'
She looked up tearfully at him. His eyes gleamed; his nostrils were quivering; every fibre in him responded to his anger.
'Ef I could, D'rindy Cayce, I'd hev that man chained in the lowest pits o' hell fur all time, so ye mought never see his face agin. An' ef I could, I'd wipe his mem'ry off'n the face o' the yearth, so ye mought never speak his name.'
'Law, Rick Tyler, don't!' protested the girl, aghast. 'I've seen ye ez jealous o' Amos Jeemes——'