nner sometimes when we were exercising in the
yard. When I first went there she had a child in her arms--a little
thing about a year old. I was always fond of children; for we had a
lot at home, brothers and sisters, and I was the eldest. She saw me
look at it one day, and I suppose she guessed it reminded me of home.
So she stopped and let me pat its cheek and talk to it. Then I knitted
it some socks and a little jacket and other things, and that made a
sort of friendship between us. You can always win a woman's heart by
taking notice of her child. Then she got to letting me carry it about
on my shoulder while she took her husband's dinner in to him, if he
did not happen to be in the yard. And when the little thing was able
to totter it would hold on to my finger, and was always content to
stay with me while she was away. So it went on till the child was four
years old.

"One day it was running across the court to its mother as she came out
from the prison. Two of the men were what you call skylarking, and
running one way while the child was running the other. One of them
knocked it down heavily. It was an accident, and if he had picked it
up and been sorry, there would have been an end of it; but instead of
that the brute burst into a loud laugh. By this time I was as fond of
the child as if it had been my own, and I rushed furiously at him and
knocked him down. As he sprang to his feet he drew a knife he used in
wood-carving and came at me. I caught the blow on my arm and closed
with him, and we fell together. The guard in the yard rushed up and
pulled us apart, and we both got a fortnight's close confinement for
fighting.

"The first time I came into the yard again and met the woman with her
child, the little one ran to me; but the woman, a little to my
surprise, said nothing. As she passed I lifted the child up, and after
giving me a hug and a kiss she said: 'Mammy gave me this to give to
you;' and she put a little note into my hand. I took the first
opportunity to read it in a quiet corner. It was as follows: 'Dear
Jacques--I saw how nobly you stood up for my Carrie the other day, and
how you got wounded in protecting her. You have always been good to
her. I have often thought I might help you to escape, but was afraid
to try. Now I will do so. It will not be easy, but I will manage it.
Do not be impatient; the child will give you another note when I have
quite arranged things. I shall not talk much to you in fu