“I guess you're stuck, Price!”
“Get your wind, Solomon,” urged the judge, “and then, if Hannibal will reach up and work about my middle with his knuckles while you pull, I may get through.” But even this expedient failed.
“Do you reckon you can get me back? I should not care to spend the night so!” said the judge. He was purple and panting.
“Let's try you edgewise!” And Mahaffy pushed the judge into the jail again.
“No,” said the judge, after another period of resolute effort on his part and on the part of Mahaffy. “Providence has been kind to me in the past, but it's clear she didn't have me in mind when they cut this hole.”
“Well, Price, I guess all we can do is to go back to town and see if I can get into my cabin—I've got an old saw there. If I can find it, I can come again to-morrow night and cut away one of the logs, or the cleats of the door.”
“In Heaven's name, do that to-night, Solomon!” implored the judge. “Why procrastinate?”
“Price, there's a pack of dogs in this neighborhood, and we must have a full night to move in, or they'll pull us down before we've gone ten miles!”
The judge groaned.
“You're right, Solomon; I'd forgotten the dogs,” and he groaned again.