Now, the jail at Bowerton, like everything else in the town, was decidedly antiquated, and consisted simply of a thickly-walled room in a building which contained several offices and living apartments.
It was as extensive a jail as Bowerton needed, and was fully strong enough to hold the few drunken and quarrelsome people who were occasionally lodged in it.
But Beigh, _alias_ Bay Billy, _alias_ Handsome, was no ordinary and vulgar jail-bird, the officers told him, and, that he and they might sleep securely, they considered it advisable to carefully iron his hands.
A couple of hours rolled away, and left Beigh still sitting moody and silent on the single bedstead in the Bowerton jail.
Suddenly the train of his thoughts was interrupted by a low "stt--stt" from the one little, high, grated window of the jail.
The prisoner looked up quickly, and saw the shadow of a man's head outside the grating.
"Hello!" whispered Beigh, hurrying under the window.
"All right, then," whispered the voice. "There _are_ secrets which no vulgar ears should hear. My name is Guzzy. I have been in love with your wife. I hadn't any idea she was married; but I've brought you my apology."
"I'll forgive you," whispered the criminal; "but--"
"'Tain't that kind of apology," whispered Guzzy. "It's a steel one--a tool--one of those things that gunsmiths shorten gun-barrels with. If they can saw a rifle-barrel in two in five minutes, you ought to get out of here inside of an hour."
"Not quite," whispered Beigh. "My hands and feet are ironed."
"Then I'll do the job myself," whispered Guzzy, as he applied the tool to one of the bars; "for it will be daylight within two hours."
The unaccustomed labor--for Guzzy was a bookkeeper--made his arms ache severely, but still he sawed away.
He wondered what his employer would say should he be found out, but still he sawed.
Visions of the uplifted hands and horror-struck countenances of his brother Church-members came before his eyes, and the effect of his example upon his Sunday-school class, should he be discovered, tormented his soul; but neither of these influences affected his saw.
Bar after bar disappeared, and when Guzzy finally stopped to rest, Beigh saw a small square of black sky, unobstructed by any bars whatever.