“I believe you, Mr Brooke,” rejoined the Captain with gravity. “Let me know any time before twelve to-day what course you deem it right to take. By noon I shall sound boot and saddle, when you will be ready to start. Your nautical friend here may join us if he chooses.”
Now, while this investigation into the affairs of one prisoner was going on, the other prisoner, Jake, was busily employed investigating his own affairs with a view to escape.
How he fared in this investigation we reserve for another chapter.
Chapter Twenty.
Jake The Flint In Difficulties.
The man who, at the time we write of, was known by the name of Jake the Flint had acquired the character of the most daring and cruel scoundrel in a region where villains were by no means rare. His exploits indicated a spirit that was utterly reckless of life, whether his own or that of his fellow-men, and many were the trappers, hunters, and Redskins who would have given a good deal and gone far to have the chance of putting a bullet in his carcass.
But, as is not unfrequently the case with such men, Jake seemed to bear a charmed life, and when knife, bullet, and rope, cut short the career of many less guilty men, Jake had hitherto managed to elude his captors—at one time by strategy, at another by a bold dash for life, and sometimes by “luck.” No one had a kind word for Jake, no one loved, though many feared, admired, and hated him. This may seem strange, for it is usually found that even in the case of the most noted outlaws there is a woman or a man, or both—who cling to them with affection.
Perhaps the fact that Jake was exceptionally harsh and cruel at all times, may account for this, as it accounted for his sobriquet of Flint. He was called by some of those who knew him a “God-forsaken man.” We merely state the fact, but are very far from adopting the expression, for it ill becomes any man of mortal mould to pronounce his fellow-man God-forsaken.