His voice trembled with eager excitement, and he gripped me tightly.
"I ain't afeerd ter tell you, cause I knew both yer daddies, an'—an' I reckon yer'll take me 'long with yer, won't you? Yer won't leave me yere fer ter face that Anse Cowan? Ye'll promise me that?"
"Of course, Nichols," I said soothingly, the man's cowardice almost disgusting, "if you show us a way of escape we'll go together if the chance comes—what is it? speak quick."
"I—I know the ol' trail over the mountings down ter Covington; I reckon as how you couldn't never git thar without me. I—I thought it all out while I was lyin' yere trussed up like a turkey, but they never giv' me no show fer ter got loose. Now if you folks will cut this yere rope offen my legs I'll show yer how fer ter git out—an' nobody'll never know nuthin' 'bout it."
"Explain first," I said shortly. "As far as trust goes I have confidence in you, Nichols, just so far as I can see you. What is below?"
"Five steps leadin' down inter a wood tank," he explained slowly, realizing that his only hope of release lay in a full description. "It's empty now, an' dry as a board; ain't been a baptism yere in six months. The place whar' the water runs out is at the
