“’Tar’n’t likely,” said Bart. “Who would? He’d get away if he could.”
“The prisoners cannot escape through the forest; there is no way but the sea, and that must be properly watched. Due notice must be given to all that any attempt to escape will be followed by the punishment of death.”
“I hear,” said Bart. “Am I to tell the captain that?”
“No. He must know it; but I give him into your charge. You must watch over him, and protect him from himself and from anyone else.”
“Black Mazzard!”
“From any one likely to do him harm,” said the captain, sternly. “You understand?”
“Yes. I’m going,” replied Bart, in a low growl, as he gazed in his leader’s eyes; and then, with a curious, thoughtful look in his own, he went out of the captain’s quarters and in the direction of the prison of the king’s officer.
Bart had to go down the broad steps of an extensive, open amphitheatre, whose stones were dislodged by the redundant growth of the forest; and, after crossing the vast court-yard at the bottom, to mount the steps on the other side toward where, dominating a broad terrace overshadowed by trees, stood a small, square temple, over whose doorway was carved a huge, demoniacal head, defaced by the action of time, but with the features still clearly marked.
As Bart neared the building a figure appeared in the doorway for a moment, and then passed out into the sunshine.
“Hullo, my lad!” it exclaimed. “You there?”