Exhausted, weary, and even overburdened with oppressive thought, he sat down on the wooden bench in his cell. The rats still gnawed and frolicked, and prowled at will. Herbert listened to them for a moment; then he thought of his dear mother and father, of his home, his own comfortable bed.
A stray tear now stole down his cheeks, and then another. The poor boy was overcome, and he gave way to a sudden outburst of grief. Then he rested his head in his hand, and tried to think again. But his mind was wearied to exhaustion.
“My mother, my mother and father! Oh, how I wish I could see them! What would they do if they only knew where I am?”
He paused after this utterance; and now his thoughts suddenly ceased their weary wanderings. All was quiet, and the long measured breathing gave evidence that our young hero slept.
CHAPTER XII.
BOB’S BRILLIANT MOVE.
“But I say, Bob, I don’t jest see how we are goin’ to get into that den,” said Tom Flannery, thoughtfully, as he and his companion hurried along towards old Gunwagner’s.
“Don’t you?” replied Bob, carelessly, as if the matter was of trivial importance.