The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1893-11-25

wood on the opposite side. Although die
not know the country, | believed l knew
the general direction in which home lay
and, as this path seemed to lead towards
it, unhesitatingly followed it.
In few minutes | found myself in a
thick underground. The path, which
seemed so clear when l entered it, grew
rapidly and most aggravatingly narrower
and narrower, until, at the end of quar-
ter of mile, it was the merest track. In
another couple of hundred yards it had
disappeared
was obliged to confess to myself that
! was utterly lost.
felt excessively uncomfortable. had
heard Of people being lost and belated on
Dartmoor, and, of course, at this instant
all the stories | had listened to took this
opportunity of recurring most unpleasantly
to my memory.
1t seemed in the highest degree improba-
bic that l could meet living soul-no
one, at any rate, could be in this region of
his own free will Clearly, the first thing
to be done was to get out of it. Fortu-
nately it was still early in the day, so that
] had plenty of time before me.
Near at hand there was a fairly high
stee, and | speedily made for it, as from
that elevation might hope to get view
of my whereabouts. But my climbing
powers had sadly degenerated. | man
aged to swarm up the trunk, after several
attempts; but found myself unable to
climb high enough to obtain aview beyond
the copse.
This was exasperating. l felt SO ex-
hausted on reaching the ground again that
| concluded that the wisest thing to do
would be to have bit of lunch. True,
there was nothing to drink ; but l must
make the best of it.
sat down at the foot of the tree which
had so defied my efforts, pulled out my
provender, and began to munich my dry
and uninviting meal.
My mouth was still full, when | heard
the sound of footsteps behind me.
l jumped to my feet. For moment
was thoroughly frightened. The stories
had heard of wild cattle on Dartmoor
flashed upon me. A seconds reflection,
however, showed me how improbable it was
that cattle should be in the middle of q
thick copse.
But, if not cattle, what could it be?
peered through the underground, but
could see nothing.
Tba footofoos oop,a naorar ond naorar
Evidently some one, or something, was ap'
preaching the spot where | stood.
My heart now leaped for joy, This was
luck better than | could possibly have an
ticipated Unless it should happen to be
some tourist as lost as myself, there was
now every probability that my troubles
would soon be over.
As soon as l could speak, l gave shout
The footsteps suddenly ceased.
again called out "Who's there 2"
Still no reply.
This was mysterious, certainly, and by
no means reassuring.
After the lapse of few moments, how
ever, heard the quick cracking of branch
es, and then, suddenly-before [ could
have suspected it-a man leaped from the
bushes into the little space in which
stood
CHAPTER III.
looked at him in astonishment and, !
.ipst confess, horror.
He was dressed in a most peculiar cos
tune. He wore no hat his hair was
cropped very close; his hands were torn
by the bushes, and his peculiar clothes had
suffered in the same way, only to greater
extent
In a moment the truth flashed across
my mind was face to face with an es.
capped convict! The dress and broad ar
rows were conclusive evidence.
We looked at each other in silence for q
moment or two.
Then the convict spoke in harsh,
rough tone, which, however, might not
have been Intentionally rough, for he was
apparently famished.
tsGive me that sandwich" he said.
handed the small packet to him. 1t
was no deprivation to me to part with it.
If that were all he wanted, he was as
suredly most welcome.
The man devoured the food in silence.
l watched him keenly, trying meanwhile
to calm myself sufficiently to think what
had better do next
He was not tall man; in fact, not
taller than myself but he was much big
ger. His hands were large and sinewy I;
his neck was short and bull-like, denoting
great physical strength. He carried in his
hand short iron bar, of which, doubtless,
he had made use in effecting his escape.
1t was nasty-looking weapon. | did not
ike the appearance of it at all,
Secretly l wished had revolver; but
| had nothing about me more deadly than
my penknife.
The man did not make so much diff
Guilty about the sandwiches as | had done.
Presently he demanded some drink !;
but l assured him that, to my regret, |
had no flask about me.
When he had finished the sandwiches
he threw himself down at the foot Of the
tree, remarking, partly to himself and part
ly to me, that he was dead tired,
| felt in most embarrassing situation.
I would willingly have left the fellow to
himself; but ] had not the slightest idea
in what direction to escape, even if escape
were possible.
So far, the man had shown no disposi-
tion to interfere with my movements; hut
that may have been because he knew there
was no necessity for him to do so.
| hoped that he was going to fall asleep;
but my hopes were disappointed. He did
not even shut his eyes.
After about ten minutes rest he seemed
to be slightly recovered.
Turning TO me, he said "What are
you doin' here, guvuor y
I told him simply that had lost my
way, my trap having broken down. |
thought it just as well to conciliate him,
so treated him as | should have treated
any tourist whom had met by accident.
| informed him that l was lodging at
Farmer Russell's, and asked him if he