"Why, you don't mean to say—" began Toby, turning pale.
"Mean!" cried the Jew, stamping furiously on the ground. "Where are they?—Sikes and the boy—where are they?—where have they been?—where are they hiding?—why have they not been here?"
"The crack failed," said Toby, faintly.
"I know it," replied the Jew, tearing a newspaper from his pocket, and pointing to it. "What more?"
"They fired and hit the boy. We cut over the fields at the back with him between us—straight as the crow flies—through hedge and ditch. They gave chase. D—me! the whole country was awake, and the dogs upon us."
"The boy!" gasped the Jew.
"Bill had him on his back, and scudded like the wind. We stopped to take him again between us; his head hung down, and he was cold. They were close upon our heels: every man for himself, and each from the gallows. We parted company, and left the youngster