“This is Mr. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. " "So do I!" she cried; "for then you would have been really my brother. Why did the beggar hang on down there, when he could have enjoyed all that civilization had to offer? Yes, he would be mighty glad to see McClintock; and the sooner he came the better. Now how in the world was he to get rid of the husband? His luck was in. ” He dropped his eye-glass with a clatter.
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