r but you might be taking him some whisky. Man's got
a right to drink whisky, it's true, but it don't speak well for the
morals and religious standin' of a jailer if he's got a lot of drunken
prisoners on hand; so, if you've got a bottle about you anywhere you'd
better let me take it."

"I've got no bottle."

"That so? Didn't know but you might have one. Prohibition has struck
this town putty hard, you know. Search yourself and see if you hain't
got a bottle."

"Don't you suppose I know whether I've got one or not? But if you want
one you shall have it."

"S-h-e-e! Don't talk so loud. There's nothin' that sharpens a man's ears
like prohibition. Say," he whispered, "a good bottle costs about a
dollar."

"Here's your dollar. It's my last cent, but you shall have it."

"Oh, it ain't my principle to rob a man," he said as he took the money.
"But I do need a little licker this mornin'. Why, I'm so dry I couldn't
whistle to a dog. No pizen, you understand," he added, with a wink, as
he opened the door.

The drawing of the bolts must have aroused Alf from sleep, for when I
stepped into the corridor he was sitting on the edge of his bed, rubbing
his eyes.

"Helloa, is that you, Bill? What are you doing here this time of day?
Why, I haven't had breakfast yet."

"I have come to tell you something, and I want you to be quiet while I
tell it."

"That's all right, old man. Go ahead. I can stand anything now."

I told him of the scene in the sitting-room, of the walk to the
General's house--told him all except that kiss at the gate. He uttered
not a word; he had taken hold of the bars and was standing with his head
resting upon his arms--had gradually found this position, and now I
could not see his face. Long I stood there, waiting, but he spoke not.
Suddenly he wheeled about, fell upon his bed and sobbed aloud. And so I
left him, and ere I reached the door I knew that his sobbing was a
prayer, that his heart had found peace and rest. Upon a pardon from the
governor he could have looked with cool indifference, for without that
girl's love he cared not to live; but now to know that through the dark
she had fled from her home, rebellious against her father's pride, wild
with love--it was a mercy granted by the Governor of governors.

I went to see Conkwright and told him of the threat that Stuart had
made, and the old man's eyes glistened. "We ought to have had that girl
on the stand in the first place," he said. "But