As we rode along I settled upon the way I’d try to set poor Jim free. Bad off as I was myself, I couldn’t bear to see him chained up, and knew that he was going for years and years to a place more wicked and miserable than he’d ever heard of.

After riding twenty miles the sun was getting low, when Billy pointed to a trail which came broad ways across the road, and which then followed it.

“Here they are—p’leece, and no mistake. Here’s their horse’s tracks right enough. Here’s the prisoner’s horse, see how he stumbled? and this road they’re bound to go till they cross the Stony point, and get into Bargo Brush, near a creek.”

We had plenty of time by crossing a range and running a blind creek down to be near the place where the troopers must pass as they crossed the main creek. We tied up the horses a hundred yards’ distance behind us in the forest, and I made ready to rescue Jim, if it could be managed anyhow.

How was it to be done? I eould depend on the rifle carrying true at short ranges; but I didn’t like the notion of firing at a man behind his back, like. I hardly knew what to do, when all of a sudden two policemen showed up at the end of the track nearest the creek.

One man was a bit in front—riding a fine horse, too. The next one had a led horse, on which rode poor old Jim, looking as if he was going to be hanged that day, as Billy said, though I knew well he wasn’t thinking about himself. I don’t believe Jim ever looked miserable for so long since he was born. Whatever happened to him before, he’d have a cry or a fight, and it would be over. But now his poor old face looked that wretched and miserable, as if he’d never smile again as long as he lived. He didn’t seem to care where they took him; and when the old horse stumbled and close upon fell down he didn’t take notice.

When I saw that, my mind was made up. I couldn’t let them take him away to his death. I could see he wouldn’t live a month. He’d go fretting his life about Jeanie, and after the free life he’d always led he’d fall sick like the blacks when they’re shut up, and die without any reason but because a wild bird won’t live in a cage.