they always keep the prisoners that way, for many reasons?" he started in with.
"Yes, I've seen them. I went through the place once to see—but that doesn't matter. That was two' years ago. Go on, please. What about his face, Frank?"
"Why, it was a hard one as near as I could make out. The description said that he was a real desperate character, and I guess it hit him off right well. Excuse me from meeting Bill in the dark anywhere, and alone," Frank went on.
"Of course you didn't happen to be close enough to see his eyes, or whether they were blue?" asked the other, almost holding his breath.
Frank looked at him strangely.
"Why, no, but the description said they were black, and terrible eyes too."
"It did, eh? Said he had black eyes?" echoed the farmer, with a sigh of relief.
"And his hair was black too, what they had left of it. I know that this must have been the Bill Brockholt spoken of, because I could see that he was rather a squatty fellow, undersized like."
Again the farmer breathed hard, and his eyes seemed to turn upward as if a sigh of thanksgiving welled from the depths of his heart. And seeing this a sudden thought flashed into the mind of the boy.
