But he reckoned without his host. "Good Lord!—cannibals?" "Aye. Only a few weeks ago there was a bloody battle on the bridge there between the soldiery and the local police. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. "Oh! if this is the case, do not stay an instant. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. Without the inclosure were reared several lofty gibbets, with their ghastly burthens. "Don't harm him," said Jack, carelessly: "he dares not do it. "A man!" "At your service, my dear," replied the jailer. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat.
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