"How very fortunate it is," he observed, "that I happened to call upon Mr. If we were set upon I could not defend you. "Mercy on us!" cried he, as a thrill of apprehension ran through his frame. Sheppard, fervently. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. Let—it—fall. Later. He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. They were headed by an athleticlooking, swarthy-featured man, who was armed with a cutlass, which he waved over his head to cheer on his companions.
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