im?

On we went, and on and on, down banks and up banks, and over gates,
hearing the sound of shouting in the distance. As we came nearer to the
sound, the soldiers ran like deer. Water was splashing, mud was flying,
and oaths were being sworn, and then, "Here are both men!" panted the
sergeant, struggling in a ditch. "Surrender, you two! Come asunder!" Other
soldiers ran to help, and dragged up from the ditch my convict and the
other one. Both were bleeding and panting and struggling, but of course I
knew them both directly. While the manacles were being put on their hands,
my convict saw me for the first time. I looked at him eagerly, and
slightly moved my hands and shook my head, trying to assure him of my
innocence, but he did not in any way show me that he understood my
gestures. We soon set off, the convicts kept apart, and each surrounded by
a separate guard. Mr. Wopsle would have liked to turn back, but Joe was
resolved to see it out, so we went on with the party, carrying torches
which flared up and lighted our way. We could not go fast because of the
lameness of the prisoners, and they were so spent that we had to halt two
or three times while they rested. After an hour or two of this travelling,
we came to a hut where there was a guard. Here the sergeant made some sort
of a report, and an entry in a book, and then the other convict was
drafted to go on board the Hulks first. My convict only looked at me once.
While we stood in the hut, he looked thoughtfully into the fire. Suddenly
he turned to the sergeant and remarked that he wished to say something
about his escape, adding that it might prevent some persons being laid
under suspicions.

"You can say what you like," returned the sergeant, and the convict
continued:

"A man can't starve, at least I can't. I took some wittles up at the
village yonder--where the church stands a'most out on the marshes, and
I'll tell you where from. From the blacksmith's."

"Halloa, Pip!" said Joe, staring at me.

"It was some broken wittles--and a dram of liquor--and a pie."

"Have you happened to miss such an article as a pie, blacksmith?" asked
the sergeant.

"My wife did, at the very moment when you came in. Don't you know, Pip?"

"So," said my convict, looking at Joe, "so you're the blacksmith, are you?
Then I'm sorry to say, I've eat your pie."

"God knows you're welcome to it, so far as it was ever mine," returned
Joe. "We don't know what you've done, but we wo