"You never heard of Zeke being captured yet, did you?" asked Zeke. "Well, you never will."
Enoch, being provided with the lantern, took the lead down the sidewalk toward the place where Caleb had struggled so hard for his freedom. Almost the first thing he saw was the bucket which had contained the yeast. It was thrown up on one side near the fence, and was jammed in the side; but it was empty.
"Here is the place where he was caught," said Zeke, taking the lantern from Enoch's hand and carefully examining all the footprints in the soft earth. "Now, are these constables' tracks or Tories' tracks?"
Enoch did not know. He was all in the dark in more respects than one, and he forbore to express an opinion.
"Now, we will visit the jail," said Zeke, starting off with one of his long strides which compelled Enoch to strike a trot in order to keep up with him. "If he is in there he will come out."
"Where are you going to get some help?" asked Enoch.
"I do not want help. That old Tory knows me, and as soon as he knows my voice he will open that door. Now you mind what I tell you."
In a few minutes they ascended the steps that led to the jail, but all was dark inside. Zeke lifted his club and pounded loudly upon the door. It seemed as if the echoes would arouse everybody within hearing. An answer came from the inside, but it was not such a one that suited Zeke.
"Go away from there!" shouted a voice that was full of rage. "You are not a constable, I know, for they do not make such a noise when they come here. Go away, now, or I will shut you up."
So soon as this answer was received the club fell heavier than before; whereupon there was the creaking of a bed and the sound of bare footsteps on the other side of the door.