"Ye're a cool one," he responded after a moment's hesitation. "Ye'd
better be thinkin' of sayin' yer prayers instead of eatin'. Rustle a
little grub fer 'im, Red, though it seems plumb sinful to waste good
chuck on a feller that's as good as dead already." And with this ominous
remark he went out, accompanied by the man who had identified the
captive, leaving Bert alone with his jailer.
"Red" got together some cold meat and beans and placed them on the floor
within Bert's reach. He ate heartily, knowing that above everything else
he must preserve his strength. And while he ate his mind was busy.
At any rate, he had a little respite. It would be at least two hours
before noontime, and many things might happen before then. He did not
disguise from himself that his situation was desperate. But, though there
might be but one chance in a thousand of escape, he was determined to
find and seize that chance.
His feet had been tied in such a manner that while, if he stood up, he
would be able to take steps a foot apart, he could by no possibility run
away.
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