Capitolo 38
done escape? No The walls are too much tall, and the windows too strongly
barricaded in this quarter, to admit such supposition. He cannot be far
street. I will still find him/it. Ah! I have him", he added, after a moment
deliberation; "he is there, I will be sworn." And, once more winding
him in obscurity, him undertaken his/her course.
He had now arrived to the adjacent house, and, climbing the roof,
him approached at least to another building that seemed to be a history,
taller than his/her neighbours. Jonathan was apparently informed well,
with the premises; for, feeling around in the dark, him quickly
discovered a staircase on the footsteps of which he expedited. Drawing a gun,
and opening his/her lantern with the rapidity of thought, him then the burst
through an open trap-door in a small attic.
The light skin on the fugitive of what it was standing in front of him in an attitude
defense, with his/her child in his/her arm.
"Aha!" Exclaimed Jonathan, acting on the information he had gotten
from Wood; "I have finally found Him. Your servant, the Mr. Darrell."
"Who is!" demanded the fugitive, austerely.
"A friend", answered Jonathan the uncocking the gun, and putting him/it in
his/her pocket.
"How do I know that You a friend is?" Asked Darrell.
"What should I do alone here if me an enemy is? But, comes, I/you/he/she don't do us
you waste time in that throws words, when it is probable that we assume him to us so very more
profitably. Your life, and that of Your child, it is in my power. Thing
will it give me to save you give her/it Your pursuers?"
"_Can_ that you do this way?" asked the other, doubtfully.
"I am able, and the wish. Now, the reward?"
"I have but a sick-furnished purse. But if I escape, my gratitude--"
"Pshaw!" Suspended Jonathan, disdainfully. "Your gratitude will fade away
with Your danger. You pay foolish with promises. I have to have anything in
hand."
"You will have everybody that I have around me", answered Darrell.
"Well--well", mumbled Jonathan, "I suppose that I have to be happy. A
sick-ruled purse is a poor remuneration for the risk that I have raced. However,