The "Rough Alleys" was the name given to the gangs of hard customers and those of the lower order of prisoners who had been compelled by their more circumspecting and better behaved companions to mess by themselves, and to generally toe the mark, as much as possible. Occasionally, however, they would break out in some sort of raid or riot that would require suppressing, and it was to this habit of theirs that Abbott referred. But this time he was mistaken.
"Listen to that!" he cried, all at once springing to an erect position. A roaring, rousing cheer came up from below, and then from the other buildings they heard it echoed.
The invalid arose from his hammock.
"Stay here," cried Abbott; "I'll fetch the news to you."
He hastened to the head of the stone stairway. A breathless man dressed in fantastic rags met him half-way up.
"What's the row, Simeon?" asked Abbott, in excitement.
"Heard the news, messmate?" the man cried in answer. "Heard the news? There's peace between America and England!"
There came a strange sound from the head of the stairs. The young prisoner had heard the words, and Abbott was just in time to catch him in his arms as he plunged forward senseless.
What had these men expected? These prisoners who had danced and sung and gone wild with delight and joy at the message that had been brought to them that bleak March day? Why, liberty at once. They were going to return to their homes. It was freedom! And did they get it? Listen! There is more to tell. Here begins the story:—