But little by little my spirit revived, and I told myself they couldn't imprison me for ever; and once free of the cells I should know well enough how to make my escape from Rancey Bridge. We were in the village at last. There was a crowd in the street blocking up the way so that one of the officers had to push ahead to clear a passage. If my wits had been clearer I should have asked myself what could have called a crowd together at this time of the morning; for it was early, though the sun had risen. Then some one called "Hullo, Tommy!" and I saw the faces of my schoolmates about me. Of course they had been out for their morning run. I told myself that the morning run would be a good time to make my next escape. But they had stopped in their run; something had caught their attention. I heard laughter, and peering into the heart of the throng saw by glimpses a beggarman who seemed to be yarning volubly to an admiring mob. There were three rows of military decorations across his breast. An old soldier, I thought. Then he moved forward a step, and I caught the _clop_ of a wooden leg. I glanced swiftly, and recognized the one-legged impostor I had seen at his trickery. So, I thought, a rogue like that may enjoy his liberty, while every one thinks him a hero, but I must go on my way to a cell! I don't remember having felt so bitterly in my life before. Nor was my sense of injustice appeased when he caught my eye and slowly winked at me, as though realizing full well that our places should have been reversed. All this took but a moment's time, and the officers having cleared a path jerked me forward. I lost sight of the old humbug. But suddenly he started singing, and his words sent the blood leaping to my heart: "'Twas at Ebb-Tide Cave by the Smugglers' Gate, At the dawn of a summer's day; And there those happy lovers met, All on the first of May." I heard him cry merrily, "Would you like to hear the story of that, m'lads?" and the boys shouted for the narrative. I turned my face away so that no one should see my sudden emotion, but only to meet the eyes of Worthing watching me intently, while the old soldier's voice still echoed the refrain, for my benefit I knew: "All on the first of May, My dear, All on the first of May." Worthing's face showed no sign of comprehension; but I knew that he knew. I began wondering what the date might be, but had no notion, except that it must be well on in April. The first of May! How could I be at Ebb-Tide Cave by the first of May? The full meaning of my calamity was borne in upon me as by a great wave. The gripping hands of the officers seemed like chains of adamant about my arms, relentless and unbreakable. CHAPTER XVIII OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN