Cruel As The Grave

There was no opportunity afforded to Sybil, Lyon and their new friend to

speak together in private; and as day followed day and night succeeded

night in this hopeless manner, their spirits fell from despondency even

to despair.

But as it is said to be darkest just before dawn, and that when things

are at their worst they are sure to mend, so it proved in their case.

On the evening of the fourth day of their tedious journey, they stopped

to sup and sleep at a lonely farm-house, where for "a consideration,"

the poor farmer consented, whenever he got the chance, to entertain

travellers.

Here their wagon and horses were comfortably stabled, and themselves

were lodged and feasted.

Here, as usual after supper, Mr. Purley accompanied his charge to her

bedroom, which, to his perplexity, he found to have two doors; the one

opening upon the upper hall, and the other communicating with an

adjoining vacant chamber.

After some consideration, he solved the difficulty of guarding his

prisoner by saying to his assistant: "Well, Munson, all that can be done is this: one of us will have to

sleep across one door, and the other across the other. And as I hav'n't

slept in a room for three nights, I reckon I'll take the vacant room,

and you may take the hall. But mind, don't forget to draw the key out of

the door when you lock it, and put it into your pocket. And mind also,

to be sure to pull your mattress quite up to the door and lay directly

across it, so that if the lock should be picked, no one can pass without

going right over your own body; and, last of all, mind to sleep only

with one eye open, or all the other precautions will be of no use at

all."

"I will be very careful, sir," answered young Bailiff Munson, touching

his hat to his superior officer in military style.

"And now, as your legs are younger than mine, I wish you would run down

stairs and ask the farmer to send me up a mug of that home-brewed bitter

beer he was talking about."

"Yes, sir," answered the young bailiff starting off with alacrity, while

the elder remained on guard at the door of his charge.

In five minutes or less time, Munson returned with a quart measure of

the "home-brewed," which he handed to Purley.

"Souls and bodies! but it is bitter, sure enough! I have heard of bitter

beer, but this beats all for bitterness that ever I tasted! However, the

bitterer the better, I suppose; and this is really refreshing," said

Purley, as he drained the mug, and handed it empty to a negro boy, who

had just brought in and laid down the mattress upon which Munson was to

sleep.