"God speed you, my dear friends," he said, with quivering voice. "I cannot go any farther. You will all be lost if I attempt it. I cannot run any more--nor could I even walk the distance you have to go." "Oh, Sydney, come!" cried Geoffrey, with painful impatience. "Dear Sydney, do not leave us," pleaded the Duke. But Sydney did not move; he only waved a good-by with his hand. He could not speak. Without a word, Featherstone recrossed, seized Sydney in his arms, and carried him bodily over. Geoffrey pulled in the plank alone, and started for the eighth canal. Mr. Sydney did not speak; and now he seemed even to gain new strength and speed. He kept up bravely, and even crossed the next canal ahead of the Duke. There now remained but one more. "Fifty minutes gone," said Geoffrey in a low voice as Featherstone ran over the plank. "That bell rings at ten minutes to six." "Bravo, Duke!" cried Featherstone, as the old man stepped from the plank. "Come, Sydney." But Sydney did not come. Instead, when he came up to the canal, he bent down, seized the plank, and pitched it into the deep trench which ran rapidly and carried it off toward the marsh. "Now go; and God bless you all!" cried Sydney, and he turned back and went toward the prison. There was no possibility of undoing Sydney's sacrificial work. "No use waiting," cried Geoffrey. "In seven minutes we shall be missed. God bless you, dear Sydney!" The brave old fellow heard their loving words, but he would not turn or speak, fearing they might delay. He walked on to the canal before him, and then he turned and saw them drawing toward the top of the hill. Then he broke down and sobbed. But his tears were not of grief, but of joy. Next moment the fugitives heard the alarm bell clanging at the prison. They did not look behind, but Sydney looked, and saw the lower gates open and a crowd of warders rushing down the hill shouting. They had seen the escaped prisoners just as they reached the top of the hill. Sydney's heart failed him when he saw the speed with which the pursuit crossed the marsh. The light bridges of the canals were easily opened and swung round, and in as many minutes half the canals were crossed. Just then a light of genius entered Sydney's brain, and he turned and ran and shouted in his excitement as loudly as any officer of them all. The gout was forgotten. The years fell from him like cobwebs. He was a youth of twenty rushing for a football. Straight toward the ninth and last canal he dashed, where his friends had crossed beside the locked bridge. He was panting like a hunted wolf when he reached the spot and sank down where the bridge was locked to the bank. By this time the warders were at the eighth canal, howling like demons at sight of Sydney. They howled louder when they overtook him and found what he had done.