ough.

Farmer Minards came home to tea looking grave and troubled. "Here's a
pretty business!" he exclaimed as he came in. "Two convicts got away from
the prison yesterday morning early, and haven't been caught yet. One of
'em broke into Perry's farm last night, and stole a whole 'eap of Farmer
Perry's clothes; 'tother one they've lost sight of altogether, but 'tis
thought he made for this direction. And they say they are two of the most
desperate villains they've ever had within the walls."

Paul's heart almost ceased beating with the sudden fear that filled it.

"It be'oves us to keep the place well barred up," went on the old man,
"and not be leaving windows open all night," nodding knowingly at Paul.
"They're not nice chaps to meet, they there convicts, and they don't stop
at much when they're trying to get off."

Every vestige of colour had left Paul's face as he realised what his
danger had been the night before. That must have been the convict he had
heard. He longed to tell the farmer how close the danger was, that he
might take extra precautions to guard the house.

"Do they--haven't they got on handcuffs, and--and chains on their ankles?"
he asked.

"Yes, but they pretty soon gets rid of they, you may be sure," answered
the old man. "Why, what do you know about 'em, young sur?"

It seemed to Paul that he was looking at him almost suspiciously.
"Oh, nothing--only--I've--I've been told--I know a fellow who stayed near
Princetown once, and he told me a heap about them," he stammered, and
Farmer Minards seemed satisfied and rose to go back to his work.

"Don't you young folk wander far for a few days," he said, turning round
as he was going out at the door; "they're nasty chaps to meet on a lonely
spot. There's one thing, _you_ won't be able to go out and get into any
mischief for a day or two, I reckon. 'Tisn't a bad thing to have 'ee tied
by the leg for a bit, it'll give your mother a bit of peace of mind," he
said to Paul, and he laughed in a way which made Paul flush with
mortification.

But he was mistaken as to the length of time Master Paul would be tied by
the leg. No schoolboy of fourteen would consent to spend a second
perfect summer day in the house, for the sake of a pair of scarred knees,
if he could possibly manage to use them.

Paul found it almost unbearable to be in as long as he was, and especially
to be the object of as much notice as he was, so the second day he
declared h