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. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. "Set your prisoner free!" returned Wood. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. “Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself. The oaken beam, nine inches in thickness, was now the sole but most formidable obstacle to his flight.
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