Jim Allen stopped his restless pacing and thrust his face between the bars. Elston backed away, for there was something about Allen’s face that brought fear to him.
“I was only goin’ to tell yuh that there’s a lady wants to see yuh!” he muttered aggrievedly.
There was no use in antagonizing the man.
“Yuh was talkin’ of me gettin’ hanged—not seein’ a lady!” said Allen, grinning.
“It’s different, ain’t it?” the jailer asked good-humoredly.
“Yuh betcha!” Allen agreed and wondered who could be calling on him. Could it be some woman Slivers Hart had sent? If it were, that might mean that Slivers was planning a rescue. In the minute the jailer was gone his hope grew, sprang to life. When Elston returned with Mrs. Howes, Allen had a sense of bitter disappointment. Tears were streaming down her face.
“Oh, Jim—Jim! I know you did this tryin’ to help us,” she cried.
“Aw, shucks, you’re talkin’ large,” Jim cried with acute embarrassment. He glanced at the jailer, who was smirking.
“Jim, I’ve brought you a pie,” said the woman, still sobbing.
“Thanks, ma’am. Yuh go on home now an’ don’t worry none,” Allen begged.