when i had come to myself i was back again in gaol with those i had left, when i went forth, as they thought to death. some news of how i had broken the press came in with me, and there was much wonder.

as for myself i was, for a while, as helpless as a new born babe, because my strength had all gone from me. it was days before i recovered, and never since have i been able to lift as heavy weights as before that supreme test.

i began to think a little of the plight i was in now. i had supposed, when they saw that i was able to break the machine with which they hoped to torture me to death, they would release me. but i had reckoned little with whom i had to deal. sir george was not yet satisfied. now i might expect to again go up to death, this time with little chance to escape.

i talked with some of the prisoners on the matter, and they said there were points of law which might be used in my behalf. the death sentence, which was not completed, could no longer hold good, it was said, so that, shortly, i would go forth a free man. for i had gone through the 173manner of death prescribed, and had lived. now it was written, so i was told, that a man might not be put in jeopardy of his life twice by the law.

i was bitter in heart, those days, i called myself many times a fool, when i thought how i might have killed sir george, when i had the chance, and, by this time, be far away with lucille. if i had known that i could trust her. but the feeling that she would cast me aside, as she seemed to have done in the case of her husband, halted me. i was torn between many impulses.

the witch trials went on, for the accusations multiplied. at length salem gaol held no less than four-score men and women, who had either been found guilty of witchcraft or who waited to be tried on the foul charges. besides those in prison, there were double that number under suspicion. not only in salem, but in andover, gloucester, ipswich and the neighboring towns. the infection had spread until the whole country was like a vast pesthouse, and the land was red with the blood of the slain.

nineteen had been hanged in salem, and two were burned at the stake. one man, swung from the gallows, was an aged clergyman. one day my former lieutenant, giles cory, was arrested as a witch, and cast into gaol with me. only a few days before his aged mother had been hanged, and he was in sore distress. we two condoled with each other, until one morning, when i missed him.

174“where is cory?” i asked the guard.

“dead,” was the brief reply.

i learned that he had been crushed to death in the same machine that i had broken. the witch-finders had repaired it, making it very stout, for rumors had got about of cory’s strength. remembering my bursting of the ropes they bound the hapless man so that it would have taken a score of men, as strong as i, to have broken the bonds. in that manner my lieutenant met his death. not that he did not struggle, beneath the cruel press. a guard, who watched him die, said cory tore loose one muscle from his arm, as the planks came down.

matters had come to such a pass now, that none of us was safe from death. so far from abating the witch fever had laid hold of the townsfolk more violently, so that they even meditated setting fire to the gaol, to burn us like rats in a trap. when this news, told with brutal pleasure by the guards, came to us, myself and some of the bolder ones, resolved to sit tamely by no longer. we would break gaol.

the prison we were in was not unlike a blockhouse save that the loops, or windows, were high up, out of reach of one standing on the floor. there was but one entrance, and that was closed by a heavy door, hung on massive iron hinges and studded with big nails. we knew that only an axe could open a way through that. outside of this door was an apartment, two stories in 175height, where the jailer stayed. the guard was also quartered there.

the gaol room was divided into two parts by a thin partition, the men being on one side, and the women on the other, with a door of communication between. there were always several men on guard in the jailer’s room, and they were fully armed.

when we had talked over the situation we could but admit it was no small matter to escape. one plan after another we considered and, in turn, rejected, for, though we hungered for liberty, we did not wish to fail in the attempt and die by the musket or the sword.

we decided that force, without some preparation beforehand, was not to be thought of, and it was voted strategy must serve our ends. so we sharpened what little wits we had left, and, at length, seemed to have hit on a plan which had its advantages.

it was talked over, laid aside, and, as none better presented, we all agreed to it. that is, all but the women. we did not take them into our counsels, though we had in mind to release them with ourselves.

the fifth night, after the full of the moon, was fixed on for the breaking of gaol. anxious were the days and nights that intervened.

it began to rain on the evening appointed, shortly after the last meal had been served. it was dismal within and not less gloomy without, but we welcomed that, for it 176would mean that few persons would be prowling about. there would also be complete darkness, and we needed that.

now, when we had been given our suppers, i put by some of my bread and a cup of water. when night had fallen i mixed this into paste, and elias jenkins smeared it over my face, in accordance with our plan. i looked as though i had on a death’s mask.

when this was done and it was near to midnight, at which hour the guard was to change, i went into a corner of the room, farthest removed from the door and huddled up like a man in great distress of body. only i left my face visible, so that the light from the single candle in the apartment fell upon my dough-covered countenance.

as the guard passed the door, one of the prisoners gave a knock.

“what now?” inquired the guard, thrusting his face up against an opening in the door, covered by iron bars.

“it is captain amherst,” spoke up john lowden, feigning to be in great fright. “he is as pale as death, and mutters strangely. we fear he is like to expire in our midst.”

the trick worked. the guard peered over toward where i was lying, while the candle above me flickered on the paste on my face. despite the need of maintaining the character i had assumed, i felt the dough cracking in a dozen places, as i tried hard not to laugh. it was solemn 177enough, but, somehow, i wanted to burst out in a roar, as i thought of how i must look.

my appearance evidently disarmed the suspicion of the guard, for, with an exclamation of surprise, he threw open the door, and advanced a little way into the room, holding his tin-pierced lantern high above his head.

yet he did not lose all caution, being alone. he kept hold of the edge of the door, ready to close it at a moment’s notice. but the few steps he came in served the purpose. lowden, who had stepped to one side, silently and suddenly sprang for the guard, and grasped him by the throat. the cry the wretch would have given utterance to, was choked in his teeth, and was only a gurgle.

the next instant i was up, and at his side. he seemed to lose his courage, when my pale face was near to his. lowden gave place to me, and i crooked my fingers about the guard’s neck. he struggled so i was afraid he would get loose and make a noise that would have brought them all about us. so i was forced to grip the man rather tighter than i meant.

he did not cease his efforts to free himself, and, being fearful that our plan would miscarry by reason of his continued struggle, i put forth a little too much muscle. i bent his head back, with great force,--there was a sudden ceasing of the guard’s resistance. i heard the bones and sinews snap. then i knew i had broken his neck. he fell in a limp mass at my feet. i was somewhat sorry, 178though he would have served me the same, and it was a fair war. however, there was no time for regret.

“quick, now!” i shouted. lowden had swung the door open, and the prisoners, men and women, crowded into the outer room.

the noise of the rush had alarmed the relief squad of guards on the second floor, and they ran down. though most of them were stupid with sleep, some had their flint-locks, and these, without a moment’s hesitation, fired into our midst. three fell dead, one a woman, and several were sorely hurt.

the next instant the guards were down under our feet as we rushed onward. some of the prisoners, who never hoped to see the outside of the gaol again, save on their way to the scaffold, were fairly mad with joy, and, in their hatred of the guards, they stamped on their upturned faces as they ran over them. thus, as i learned afterward, several of those who had watched over us died.

there was yet the outer door between us and liberty. several of those in the van tried to burst it open. all the while the guards were shouting like mad behind us, while the prisoners, who had lost their heads, cried and screamed; the shrill voices of the women voicing high above the others. again and again half a dozen men threw themselves against the door, but, in their excitement, they wasted their energies.

the portal resisted, though it shook under the strain.

179“ho, captain!” several called. “here is where your strength is like to serve us.”

i pushed my way through the crowd, and tried my shoulder against the door. it was of considerable thickness, though not as heavy as the other. once, twice and thrice, i hurled my body against the barrier. it held. once more i made the attempt, and, this time, when i thought i would have brought down the very wall, i cracked the wood down the middle, and the door was there no more, though i bruised my shoulder greatly by the effort.

others of the guard had secured their weapons by this time, and they fired once more into the helpless crowd. there were shrieks of mortal hurts from those in the rear, and curses from those in front.

“the women first,” i cried, blocking the splintered opening through the door, with my body. “not a man passes until all the women are by.”

at that the men opened up a living lane, and the women, save three who were killed, ran screaming out.

“now, men!” i cried, and i stood aside, until the last one was out. four guards, each swinging his musket as a club, came at me. i caught up a sword from the jailer’s table, and disabled the nearest guard. then i leaped out through the splintered portal, and was in the midst of the crowd of those who, only a few minutes before, had little hope of life.

180on they fled, free, leaving behind, like a bad dream, the gaol room, with its witch memories. men and women cried aloud in their joy. once more they could look up and know that the sky was above them, even though from it came drops of rain, pitiless, yet seeming like tears of a great rejoicing. they held out their hands, and even opened their mouths, that the cool rain might refresh them. i looked about me, long enough to see that all who could had escaped, and then i turned to my own affairs.

i buckled the belt of the sword i had caught up about me. something familiar about the hilt of the weapon drew my attention. then, as i examined it as well as i could in the darkness, i found, with pleasure, that it was my own good steel, that had been taken from me. now i was ready to meet the whole world, but, first of all, i wanted to stand before one man, and that one was sir george keith.

i washed the paste of bread from my face. i gave a look toward the gaol, which was now some distance behind. from the direction came a confused murmur of sounds. i was free; but whither should i go?

i was like a ship without a compass. salem was no longer a safe place for me. lucille, whom i had hoped to wed, was the wife of another. my arrest as a witch was an end to any military preferment in the colony. my life seemed to have come to an end, now.

i had hastened on, thus musing, until i found myself 181near to the inn of master willis. the rain came down softly, and the only creature stirring in the neighborhood seemed to be me. none of the prisoners had come that way.

hark! what was that?

the echo of my footsteps died away. then, from the stable, back of the inn, came the whinny of a horse.

“kit!” i exclaimed. i had almost forgotten my faithful little mare, which willis had kept for me ever since i first came to salem. there was one true friend at least.

myself, my sword, my horse. what more could a soldier wish? love? i had that too, it seemed, though it was not all mine. strange, when i was loving lucille, i never thought another might love her too. i never thought she might have loved another. she seemed all mine. ’twas a hard nut to crack. if only there had been no marriage between lucille and sir george. but straightway i had wished that i wished it away; for what it meant to her.

kit whinnied again. it was like a message to me. i must leave salem, to go i knew nor cared not where. first of all to get kit out. i walked around to the stable door and, with a stone, easily broke the lock. kit knew me as soon as i stepped inside. i stroked her glossy neck, patted her moist nose, and, running my hands down her legs, knew that she was in good shape, and fit for a hard, fast ride.

182i found the saddle and bridle, put them on, and led her out into the road. then i leaped upon her back, shook the reins, and we were off.

“good bye, lucille,” i whispered, to the rain and darkness.

and then, though i had said good bye to love, i felt a lighter heart than i had known for many a long day.

kit’s muscles moved like steel bands, as she went galloping along the road to boston, for thither had i guided her unconsciously. the sweet smell of the newly watered earth came up to my nostrils, and i breathed long and deep of the fresh night air. kit’s hoofs beat a soft slushing tattoo on the muddy road.

the rain fell gently.

“good bye, lucille,” i whispered. a raindrop fell upon my lips, and it seemed as if she had kissed me in the night.