But here a new difficulty presented itself. The hole he had dug was already half filled with the stones he had tumbled from their positions. His strength was not sufficient to remove them, and he was compelled to dig again, in order to prosecute his labors.
The wall removed, he commenced digging outside of the foundation wall. Patiently he dug down to obtain sufficient room for the deposit of earth from the outside. Slowly and laboriously he undermined the ground, till the surface above him caved in, and—joy to his panting soul!—the air, the pure air of heaven, rushed in through the aperture! Hastily enlarging the cavity, and removing the earth to the inside, he ascended to the surface of the ground. A feeling of gratitude thrilled through his frame, as he once more inhaled the free air of heaven, that he had escaped the terrible fate which a few hours before had seemed inevitable.
With faltering step,—for now that his Herculean task was accomplished, the reality of his weakened physical condition was painfully apparent,—he walked round the jail, to satisfy himself that no one was in the vicinity. The sun was set, and the shades of night were gathering upon the earth. The time was favorable for his escape. Having satisfied himself that he was unobserved, he hastened to the garden, which was close at hand, to procure the means of invigorating his own body, and restoring to life and animation the partner of his captivity. Fruit of various kinds—melons, figs—rewarded his anxious search. Filling his handkerchief with cantelopes and figs, he hastened back to the jail, with all the speed his weary limbs would permit. His thoughts were fixed upon his wife, whose suffering had pierced his soul more deeply than all the anxiety and doubt he had experienced on his own account. As he tottered along, he asked himself if he should eat of the fruit he carried ere she had tasted of the banquet. He drew one of the rosy-cheeked, juicy figs from the handkerchief. It was no loss of time—no deferring of the succor she needed—to eat as he walked; run he could not, though he fain would have quickened his tardy pace. It would restore his strength, and enable him the better to protect and rescue her. It was not wrong, though, from the deep well of his affection, came up something like a reproach for his selfishness. He ate the fruit. The effect was, or seemed to be, magical. He thought he could feel it imparting strength to his exhausted form. Again he ate, and in the pleasant sensation to his unsated palate, his imagination, as much as the fruit, nerved his muscles, and he walked with a firmer step.
He had not completed one-half the distance back, when he discovered two men in the vicinity of the jail. A cold shudder nearly paralyzed him. Was his labor all in vain? Had he with so much trial and suffering effected his escape, only to be incarcerated again? The thought was maddening, and he resolved to die rather than be returned to the dungeon.
Drawing a revolver from his pocket, with which he had prudently prepared himself before his interview with Jaspar, he proceeded on his way.
On a nearer approach, the men appeared to be strangers to him. They might, however, be in the employ of Jaspar. They might be engaged in watching over his captivity.
He approached nearer. He had never seen either of them before. They did not look like men whom Jaspar would have been likely to select for such a purpose as he apprehended. Still, he took the precaution to examine the caps upon his pistol, and have his bowie-knife in a convenient place for immediate use.
Dalhousie was the first to speak.
"Your business here?" demanded he, regardless of the courtesy to which he had been all his life accustomed.
"The fact on 'tis," replied one of the strangers, a little startled by the rude manner of Dalhousie, "the fact on 'tis, we are lookin' arter the mansion of a Mr. Dumont. Perhaps you will oblige us by tellin' us which way to go."