convict listened with docility to all that the
ministers had to say, he steadily persisted in asserting his own
innocence of the crimes for which he was condemned, and in his refusal
to deliver up his companions.

Meantime, Capitola, at Hurricane Hall, was doing all she could to
discover or invent means to save the life of Black Donald. But still
she said no more about it even to Old Hurricane.

One evening, while Cap was sitting by the fire with her thoughts busy
with this subject, her uncle came in saying:

"Cap, I have got some curiosities to show you!"

"What are they?" said Cap, languidly.

"A set of burglar's tools, supposed to belong to some member of Black
Donald's band! One of my negroes found them in the woods in the
neighborhood of the Devil's Punch Bowl! I wrote to the sheriff
concerning them, and he requested me to take care of them until he
should have occasion to call for them. Look! Did you ever see such
things?" said Old Hurricane, setting down a canvas bag upon the table
and turning out from it all sorts of strange looking instruments--tiny
saws, files, punches, screws, picks, etc., etc., etc.

Cap looked at them with the most curious interest, while Old Hurricane
explained their supposed uses.

"It must have been an instrument of this sort, Cap, that that blamed
demon, Donald, gave to the imprisoned men to file their fetters off
with!" he said, showing a thin file of tempered steel.

"That!" said Cap. "Hand it here! Let me see it!" And she examined it
with the deepest interest.

"I wonder what they force locks with?" she inquired.

"Why, this, and this, and this!" said Old Hurricane, producing a
burglar's pick, saw and chisel.

Cap took them and scrutinized them so attentively that Old Hurricane
burst out into a loud laugh, exclaiming:

"You'll dream of house-breakers to-night, Cap!" and taking the tools,
he put them all back in the little canvas bag, and put the bag up on a
high shelf of the parlor closet.

The next morning, while Cap was arranging flowers on the parlor
mantelpiece, Old Hurricane burst in upon her with his hands full of
letters and newspapers, and his heart full of exultation--throwing up
his hat and cutting an alarming caper for a man of his age, he
exclaimed:

"Hurrah, Cap! Hurrah! Peace is at last proclaimed and our victorious
troops are on their way home! It's all in the newspapers, and here are
letters from Herbert, dated from New Orleans! Here are letters for