"That was all?"
"He kissed her as she fought—and I yelled."
"She struck him!" Neil cried. "God bless little Winnsome, Nat! and—God bless her!"
Neil's breath came fast as he caught the other's hand.
"I'd give my life if I could help you—and Marion!"
"We'll give them together," said Nathaniel coolly, turning down the corridor. "Here's our chance. They'll come through that door to relock us in our cell. Shall we die fighting?"
He was groping about in the mud of the floor for some object.
"If we had a couple of stones—"
"It would be madness—worse than madness!" interposed Neil, steadying himself. "There will be a dozen rifles at that door when they open it. We must return to the cell. It is worth dying a harder death to hear from Marion and Winnsome. And we will hear from them before night!"
They retreated into the dungeon. A few minutes later the door opened cautiously at the head of the corridor. A light blazed through the blackness and after an interval of silence the jailer made his appearance in front of the cell, a pistol in his hand.