"My grave!"
"Yes. They told me you had died at nearly the same time with your mother. Why, I know not. It could not have been from malice, for they knew me not. I was a stranger in my native home."
"But you—how were we deceived, and why did you not tell us of your escape, and our dear one might still have been alive?"
"Listen, and I will tell you all," replied James Duaber, in broken tones. "It is a sad, sad story of cruel wrong and sorrow; but I was the victim—I and mine! You know the first, or sufficiently well as to render a résumé unnecessary. But it was James Meagreson—the wretch yonder—who caused it all for revenge, because your mother chose me in preference to him.
"A man named Frank Soutar was confined in the same apartment with me, upon a charge identical with the one for which I was to suffer; but as he acknowledged to me, deeming me of the same gang, he was guilty. The mob knew nothing of his having been changed to my cell, as it had only been done that same day; and when they broke open the doors in the dead of night, he was seized for me in the confusion and darkness, while I hid beneath the pallet.
"And the error was never discovered by the mob; they hung him, thinking they were doing as they had been bribed by Meagreson, who took that way to insure my death, fearing lest I should eventually escape his revenge, if he left the law to decide. He was hung, but I took advantage of the open door to flee, and during the excitement, managed to effect my escape unmolested.
"A staunch friend of mine, Jack Fyffe, yonder—who was also under the ban, and in hiding, managed to secure his two horses, and upon them we rapidly fled the country. He had joined the mob with the hope of assisting me to escape, and he alone discovered the error, in time to return and assist me.
"We rode hard all that night, and lay hid at day, for we feared that the error would be discovered in the morning, at least, and then the hounds would be hot upon our trail. We traveled in this way until out of the State, and far into the wilds of Arkansas. But even then we did not feel secure, and thought it best to lie concealed until the storm had blown over.
"Still, I wrote, and managed to post two letters to my wife, telling of my safety, and that I would soon return to remove her and you to our new refuge. Besides this, I counted upon her knowing of my escape, else I would have dared all to have seen her.
"So, I waited for six months, and then was upon my way back, when I met a man who had just come through there. He did not know us, and I questioned him closely. Then it was that I learned of her death, and that you, too, had died. I did not doubt its entire truth, and in my wretchedness, I plunged into crimes and dissipation to drown reflection.