"There's only one chance," said Richard, coming to a dead halt, and
folding his arms resolutely.

His comrade inquired with the utmost eagerness what that chance might be.

Richard fixed his eyes on a flint, and replied: "We must rescue that
fellow from jail."

Ripton gazed at his leader, and fell back with astonishment. "My dear
Ricky! but how are we to do it?"

Richard, still perusing his flint, replied: "We must manage to get a file
in to him and a rope. It can be done, I tell you. I don't care what I
pay. I don't care what I do. He must be got out."

"Bother that old Blaize!" exclaimed Ripton, taking off his cap to wipe
his frenzied forehead, and brought down his friend's reproof.

"Never mind old Blaize now. Talk about letting it out! Look at you.
I'm ashamed of you. You talk about Robin Hood and King Richard! Why,
you haven't an atom of courage. Why, you let it out every second of the
day. Whenever Rady begins speaking you start; I can see the perspiration
rolling down you. Are you afraid?--And then you contradict yourself.
You never keep to one story. Now, follow me. We must risk everything to
get him out. Mind that! And keep out of Adrian's way as much as you
can. And keep to one story."

With these sage directions the young leader marched his companion-culprit
down to inspect the jail where Tom Bakewell lay groaning over the results