of time it took in falling a rough estimate of the depth. He calculated it was at least thirty-five feet. He had twenty feet of rope; he would stretch nearly seven, leaving eight feet to drop,--nothing after all! He descended once more into his cell, secured his pistol, and climbed up again. He could not suppress a laugh as he thought how scared his gaolers would look when they found the bird flown. He then wound himself through the bars and the wall, getting somewhat torn and clawed by the spikes; but liberty was before him, and he recked not of the pain. After much squeezing and exertion he at last got on the outside. He looked once more to see if the rope was firmly knotted, waited for a faint flash of the waning storm, and then began his descent. It was not long ere he reached the _Ultima Thule_ of his line; then with a beating heart, he let go. It was a horrid feeling, that letting go, and the fall in darkness! He had miscalculated the height; instead of thirty-five, the depth was forty-one or forty-two feet, and instead of dropping eight, he had fourteen or fifteen feet to fall. He fell with a heavy shock, bruising himself a good deal on the slippery rocks down which he rolled. He was, however, not materially injured, and when he looked back at the perilous height he had come from, and looked at his befouled garments dimly seen in the early dawning, he laughed heartily, and, losing no more time, dived into the Canongate, soon reaching the Hunter's Bog, where he found his comrades waiting. At first he hardly distinguished them from the rocks; then he saw the dark outlines of horses and men; by-and-by he distinguished Bill Stacy, Archy, and three horses. He quickened his pace. "Hillo, you young dog, so you've run the blockade? A rascally time you have kept old Bill anchored in these d--d moorings." "Bill, how are you? I was as quick as I could be. I thought I'd never saw through those d--d bars. How they will gape when they find me off!" "I have no time for words now; get aboard your craft and away, or the bloodhounds will overhaul us." "Away--where to? The old Peel." "Not likely; away to the sea. You must give the old land a wide berth. The Peel! good God! That would be a wise _caché_ to hit on." "But I must not--will not leave this country. Can we not hide? What would happen?--they would be married!" "I don't care what would happen, or what wouldn't happen. The ship has weighed anchor, and by it you go; and be d--d to the wench!" "Stay, Bill,--what if I say I won't?" "Then I say I will shoot you. I am in earnest. So you had better be led! What the devil makes you care about a gal that don't care a straw for you?" "Bill, what should you know of love?" "What should I, or what shouldn't I,--up, I say, and off. G--'s name, it is gettin' light!"