Then Anne, who had followed me to the bedside, drew away the coverings. It was like a revelation, for I had been told no word of it, nor so much as dreamed of such sweet chances. The dear surprise of it was in one sense like a blow, and I staggered on my feet as that day's threats had owned no power to make me. There, with little face upturned and sleeping, was a babe!--our babe! --Apple Cheek's and mine!--our baby girl that had been born to us while its father lay in jail on a charge of murder! While I looked, it opened its eyes; and then a wailing, quivering cry went up that swept across my soul like a tune of music. CHAPTER XII--DARBY THE GOPHER FOXY BILLY CASSIDY made but slow work of obtaining those papers asked for to overthrow our enemy, the Chief. He copied reams upon reams of contracts and vouchers and accounts, but those to wholly match the crushing purposes of Big Kennedy were not within his touch. The documents which would set the public ablaze were held in a safe, of which none save one most trusted by the Chief, and deep in both his plans and their perils, possessed the secret. “That's how the game stands,” explained Big Kennedy. “Foxy Billy's up ag'inst it. The cards we need are in th' safe, an' Billy aint got th' combination, d'ye see.” “Can anything be done with the one who has?” “Nothin',” replied Big Kennedy. “No, there's no gettin' next to th' party with th' combination. Billy did try to stand in with this duck; an' say! he turned sore in a second.” “Then you've no hope?” “Not exactly that,” returned Big Kennedy, as though revolving some proposal in his mind. “I'll hit on a way. When it comes to a finish, I don't think there's a safe in New York I couldn't turn inside out. But I've got to have time to think.” There existed strong argument for exertion on Big Kennedy's part. Both he and I were fighting literally for liberty and for life. Our sole hope of safety layin the overthrow of the Chief; we must destroy or be destroyed. Big Kennedy was alive to the situation. He said as much when, following that verdict of “Not guilty!” I thanked him as one who had worked most for my defense. “There's no thanks comin',” said Big Kennedy, in his bluff way. “I had to break th' Chief of that judge-an'-jury habit at th' go-off. He'd have nailed me next.” Big Kennedy and I, so to phrase it, were as prisoners of politics. Our feud with the Chief, as the days went by, widened to open war. Its political effect was to confine us to our own territory, and we undertook no enterprise which ran beyond our proper boundaries. It was as though our ward were a walled town. Outside all was peril; inside we were secure. Against the Chief and the utmost of his power, we could keep our own, and did. His word lost force when once it crossed our frontiers; his mandates fell to the ground.