"But what about this man who escaped? Why do you think he'll get away?"
"'Cause he's a good plucked 'un, a fighter, a brave man," said Brack.
"In what way?"
"They put bloodhounds on his track. One brute got away, they didn't find him for three days, when they did——," Brack hesitated; he wished to rouse his listener's attention. He succeeded.
"Go on," said Dick eagerly.
"The trackers found the hound dead, and alongside him was a suit of convict clothes—nice well marked suits, ain't they; you can't mistake 'em," said Brack.
"You don't mean to say the fellow killed the hound, and left his clothes beside it!" exclaimed Dick.
"That's just what I have said, mister. Clever, weren't it? When the other hound found his mate, he found the clothes, and he lost the scent."
"How?"
"'Cause the man must have fled stark naked, and the hound only had the scent of his clothes; must have been that, 'cause he couldn't follow him. He'll get off right enough—you see if he don't. I wish Bill could do the same."