“It’s a girl, ain’t it, Jim?” he asked as he placed it upon the seat still sleeping.
“Yep.”
“How old?”
“I’ll be blest if I know. My memory ain’t no good, even as far as my kid goes. But I wasn’t going to leave it behind.”
“I admire you for taking her,” said Tom as he whirled the boat into the dark night, and the shadows of the prison walls dropped into the longer one of the night, and the boys were well upon their way to freedom.
In the shadow Jim took a card from his pocket.
“Can you read that, pard?” said he just as a great whistle blew from the prison. But Tom had been able to see Biddy Roan’s address, and heard Jim say that she was a good woman and wanted him to come to her place. But the terrible thundering of the whistle and the bright lights upon the shore made the boys put to the oars with greater grip than ever.
When they were out of danger Jim commenced to play about the baby’s neck, mumbling to himself.
“I’m going to take this off,” murmured he.
“What?” asked Tom, stopping a moment.