Part 64 (1/2)
”Yes--yes--go on--I understand,” she answered quickly.
”I'm from Kansas. I'm a friend of John Cook's. I come all the way here to help him. I joined these guards to get to him. I'm goin' to get him out of here if I can.”
”Thank G.o.d--thank G.o.d,” she murmured.
”Keep a stiff upper lip and get your hand on some money to follow us.”
”I will.”
Another guard approached.
”Leave me now. My name's Charles Lenhart. Don't try to talk to me again.
Just watch and wait.”
She nodded, brushed the tears from her eyes and left quickly.
He was on the job without delay. Cook and Edwin Coppoc, condemned to die on the same day, occupied the same room in jail. They borrowed a knife from Lenhart as soon as he came on duty and ”forgot” to return it. With this knife they worked at night for a week cutting a hole through the brick wall. Under their clothes in a corner they concealed the fragments of bricks.
When the opening had been completed, they cut teeth in the knife blade and made a small saw strong and keen enough to eat through a link in their shackles.
On the night fixed, Lenhart was on guard waiting in breathless suspense for the men to drop the few feet into the prison yard. A brick wall fifteen feet high could he scaled from his shoulders and the last man up could give him a lift.
Through the long, chill hours he paced his beat on the wall and waited to hear the crunching of the bodies slipping through the walls.
What had happened?
Something had gone wrong in the impulsive mind of the blue-eyed adventurer inside. The hole was open, the saw in his hand to cut the manacles, when he suddenly stopped.
”What's the matter?” Coppoc asked.
”We can't do this to-night.”
”For G.o.d's sake, why?”
”My sister's in town with Governor Willard to tell me goodbye. They will put the blame of this on them. My sister might be imprisoned. The Governor would be in bad. I've caused them trouble enough--G.o.d knows--”
”When are they going?”
”To-morrow. We'll wait until to-morrow night--after they've gone.”
”But Lenhart may not be on guard.”
”That's so,” Cook agreed. ”Coppoc, you can go alone. You'd better do it.”
”No.”
”You'd better.”
”I'm not made out of that sort of goods,” the boy answered.