t was Christmas Eve, I was obliged to
stir the pudding for next day for one whole hour. I tried to do it with
the load on my leg, and found the tendency of exercise was to bring the
bread out at my ankle, so I managed to slip away and deposit it in my
garret room. Later there was a sound of firing in the distance. "Ah," said
Joe, "there's another convict off!"

"What does that mean, Joe," said I.

Mrs. Joe answered, "Escaped, escaped," and Joe added,--"There was one off
last night, and they fired warning of him. And now it appears they're
firing warning of another."

"Who's firing?" said I.

"Drat that boy," said my sister, frowning. "What a questioner he is! Ask
no questions and you'll be told no lies!"

I waited a while, and then as a last resort, I said,--"Mrs. Joe, I should
like to know--if you wouldn't much mind--where the firing comes from?"

"Lord bless the boy!" she exclaimed, "from the Hulks!"

"Oh-h," said I, looking at Joe, "Hulks! And please what's Hulks?"

"That's the way with this boy," exclaimed my sister, "answer him one
question, and he'll ask you a dozen directly. Hulks are prison ships right
'cross the meshes." (We always used that name for marshes in our country.)

"I wonder who's put in prison ships, and why they're put there," said I.

This was too much for Mrs. Joe, who immediately rose. "I tell ye what,
young fellow," said she, "I didn't bring you up by hand to badger people's
lives out. People are put in the Hulks because they murder and rob and
forge and do all sorts of bad; and they always begin by asking questions.
Now you get along to bed!"

I was never allowed a candle and as I crept up in the dark I felt
fearfully sensible that the Hulks were handy for me. I was clearly on the
way there. I had begun by asking questions and I was going to rob Mrs.
Joe. I was also in mortal terror of the young man who wanted my heart and
liver, and of my acquaintance with the iron on his leg, and if I slept at
all that night it was only to imagine myself drifting down the river on a
strong spring tide to the Hulks, a ghostly pirate calling out to me
through a speaking trumpet that I had better come ashore and be hanged
there at once. I was afraid to sleep even if I could have, for I knew that
at the first dawn of morning I must rob the pantry and be off.

So as early as possible I crept downstairs to the pantry and secured some
bread, some rind of cheese, half a jar of mincemeat, some brandy from