I was now enabled to make an examination of my prison. I swept one hasty glance around it, and saw that it was about ten feet square, that there was not a single article of furniture in it, and that the walls, floor and ceiling were formed of heavy oak planks.
When I had noted these things, I looked toward the opening again, and found that it had increased in size sufficiently to admit the head and shoulders of Tom Mason, who gazed all about the room, then rubbed his eyes and looked again.
I was not glad to see him, and wondered what he might want there. If he intended to revenge himself on me for knocking him down, he would have a lively time of it, for I was not bound now.
“Joe,” said he, in a scarcely audible whisper.
“Why do you call me that?” I asked. “Didn’t you tell Barney that my name was Mark?”
“I did; but I knew better all the time.”
“Well, that is as much as I care to hear from you. Don’t you dare come in here.”
“I know you despise me, Joe, and I don’t wonder at it; but if you will trust me this once, you will never be sorry for it. I am going to leave these fellows this very afternoon; and if you will go with me, and stick to me, we can take my uncle’s money with us, and Black Bess, too.”
I began to listen more attentively when I heard this. As Tom had got me into this scrape, I saw no reason why he should not get me out of it, if he could. The only question in my mind was whether or not I could place any dependence on him.
He must have been able to read my thoughts, for he hastened to say: