"By the powers!" ejaculated Pat Fegan.
"Can't we help you?" asked Uncle Nathan.
"Perhaps you can. I thank you, and, if it is not too late, she also will thank you. My strength is nearly gone."
Dalhousie, followed by Uncle Nathan and Pat Fegan, proceeded towards the jail, the former relating, as they went, the terrible incidents of their captivity, and the means by which he had effected their happy deliverance.
On the night of the explosion of the Chalmetta's boiler, Uncle Nathan and Pat Fegan had saved their lives by jumping overboard, and had been picked up by the Flatfoot. The true-hearted New Englander had made a diligent search for the parties who had intrusted the will in his keeping, but without success. He had been enabled to gain no tidings of any of them, and was now continuing his search to the mansion of the Dumont family.
The party reached the jail, and Dalhousie leaped into the pit, followed by his companions. The poor wife seemed to have no realization of the event which had set them free, and gazed with a wild stare upon her husband and those who accompanied him.
"We are safe, Delia! we are safe!" said Dalhousie, as he proceeded to untie the bundle of fruit.
"Safe! no, it cannot be—only a dream! But who are these persons?"
"They are friends, Delia—friends who have come to help me in saving you. Take one of these figs, dear. They will restore you."
"Figs!" replied Delia, with a vacant look.