oward the marsh.

"Now go; and God bless you all!" cried Sydney, and he turned back and
went toward the prison.

There was no possibility of undoing Sydney's sacrificial work.

"No use waiting," cried Geoffrey. "In seven minutes we shall be missed.
God bless you, dear Sydney!"

The brave old fellow heard their loving words, but he would not turn or
speak, fearing they might delay. He walked on to the canal before him,
and then he turned and saw them drawing toward the top of the hill. Then
he broke down and sobbed. But his tears were not of grief, but of joy.

Next moment the fugitives heard the alarm bell clanging at the prison.
They did not look behind, but Sydney looked, and saw the lower gates
open and a crowd of warders rushing down the hill shouting. They had
seen the escaped prisoners just as they reached the top of the hill.

Sydney's heart failed him when he saw the speed with which the pursuit
crossed the marsh. The light bridges of the canals were easily opened
and swung round, and in as many minutes half the canals were crossed.

Just then a light of genius entered Sydney's brain, and he turned and
ran and shouted in his excitement as loudly as any officer of them all.
The gout was forgotten. The years fell from him like cobwebs. He was a
youth of twenty rushing for a football.

Straight toward the ninth and last canal he dashed, where his friends
had crossed beside the locked bridge. He was panting like a hunted wolf
when he reached the spot and sank down where the bridge was locked to
the bank.

By this time the warders were at the eighth canal, howling like demons
at sight of Sydney. They howled louder when they overtook him and found
what he had done.

Mr. Sydney had filled the padlock of the bridge with small stones, and
he stood aside with a grave face, looking at the warders as they tried
to open it. When they understood the daring trick, one brutal fellow
rushed at Sydney and struck him heavily on the face.

The old man reeled from the blow, and then recovering himself, turned
from the ruffian and looked with disgust and surprise, not at him but at
his crowd of fellow-warders.

"Stop that!" shouted one of them to Sydney's assailant. "That's no
criminal; and this is no criminal's trick."

There was no crossing this last canal without a bridge or a plank, for
the further side was a brick wall considerably higher than the nearer,
designed to prevent escape.

By the time the warders had