CHAPTER XIV.

A DASH FOR LIBERTY.

Aching in every joint, and too worn out to either move or speak, Howard Sherwood threw himself down on the hard bench in his narrow stone cell in the Marambo prison, and was soon fast asleep.

When he awoke, there were faint streaks of dawn in the east, and presently a single ray of sunshine shone in at the narrow window high over his head. The glad light shone but a few minutes, then it passed on, not to return until the next day, for the window was scarcely four inches wide, and would admit the sun only when that luminary occupied a position directly opposite.

A tramping in the prison yard beyond had aroused Howard--the tramp of a number of other unfortunates who were taking their daily exercise.

Howard hoped that he, too, would be given an opportunity to fill his lungs with fresh air, but this boon was denied him. He was kept in solitary confinement until almost the noon hour, the only one to visit him being a jailer, who brought a bowl of cooked meal and a piece of black bread.

"How long am I to remain here?" questioned Howard, but the jailer merely shook his head.

"Cannot talk to you, señor," he said. "Against Captain Nocolo's orders."

"Is the captain around?"

"No, he went off to battle."

Howard placed his hand in his bosom, where he had a number of gold pieces concealed. He drew out one of the pieces, and held it before the jailer's eyes.

"Why not be friendly, and talk to me a little," he said, suggestively.

At the sight of the gold the jailer's eyes glistened. He walked to the corridor, looked out to see that no one was in sight, then came back and held out his grimy hand.

"I am a poor man, otherwise I would not take the señor's money," he said, apologetically. "What is it the señor wishes to know?"

"How long I am to remain here."

"I cannot answer that. It depends upon the orders received from Captain Nocolo and Lieutenant Mazenas."

"They are in charge here?"

"Yes. Captain Nocolo takes charge of the rebel prisoners from the plantations, and Lieutenant Mazenas the prisoners from along the line of the railroad."

"Where have these two gone?"

"Off to the battle, back of Señor Corona's plantations. The rebels are there, burning the cane-fields."

At these words Howard was much astonished.

"Is Señor Corona's estate close by?" he questioned.

"Less than a mile away."

"And they are fighting there, on the place?"

"The rebels have not yet reached the place itself, I believe, but they are fast approaching. But they're but a handful, and they will soon be subdued--either killed or taken prisoners."

The young war correspondent was not assured by this explanation. The fighting was close to Estella's home, and if she were there, she would be in grave peril! Oh, if he were but free to fly to her!

"Do you know much of Captain Nocolo?" he questioned.

"Very little, señor; I am a new man here."

"And how much do they pay you for working here?"

The man's face fell. "As yet I have received nothing but promises," he murmured. "The Government cannot collect the taxes, and so--"

"You must suffer, eh?"

"That is it, señor. But we have promises----"

"Which may never be fulfilled." Howard drew closer. "Listen: I just gave you a piece of gold. Let me throw you to the floor and take your key from you, and I will give you ten more pieces of the same weight. I am an innocent man, so you will commit no crime by helping me to freedom."

The jailer contemplated Howard in silence and indecision; but as the prisoner brought out the golden pieces his eyes blazed with greediness.

"Give them to me, señor," he eagerly whispered. "I will let you go. But you must swear not to betray me!"

"Enough; you have my word. Here is the money. Quick! which way can I leave the prison the easiest?"

The jailer snatched the gold and put it in his pocket. Then with a leap he reached the cell door.

"You remain where you are!" he shouted, in mockery. "I am no fool to----"

He got no farther. With the rapidity of lightning Howard bounded toward him, clutched him by the throat, and dashed him to the floor.

"Knave!" he whispered, as he bent over him, his knee on his breast, his hand once more on his throat! "Dare to make a sound, and I will squeeze the life out of you!"

The eyes of the frightened man bulged from their sockets. He tried to speak, to beg for mercy, but he could scarcely breathe. Howard held him down until he was all but unconscious, then took from him, first his keys, then his knife, and lastly all the golden pieces he had given to him.

"Mercy!" gasped the jailer. "Do--not--kill--me!"

"Silence!" whispered Howard.

The jailer had a girdle of canvas around his waist. This the young war correspondent used to bind the man's hands and tie him fast to the bench, first, however, taking from him his coat. Then he gagged him by shoving a big piece of the black bread in his mouth and keeping it in place by tying his handkerchief over it and around the back of the head.

"Now remain quiet. If you kick, or otherwise make a noise, I will come back and finish you. Do you understand?"

Almost white with terror, the jailer nodded, shivering as Howard flourished the keen-edged knife before his face. Coward to the core, he was completely subdued.

As quickly as possible Howard donned the jailer's coat, then he placed the fellow's hat on his head, drawing it well over his eyes. The floor of the cell was covered with dust, and this the young war correspondent did not hesitate to rub over his face and hands. He was essaying a desperate game, and he must avail himself of every possible chance to escape detection.

Once outside of the cell, he locked the door. Then he peered up and down the corridor. Another jailer was coming along, several bowls of food in hand, and he turned and walked in the opposite direction.

"Guito!" cried the approaching man, but Howard pretended not to hear, and turned an angle in the corridor to get out of sight.

Soon he came to a door, and, opening it, passed out into the prison yard. It was paved with stone and surrounded by a wall fifteen feet high. To climb this was now the all-important question.

Two prisoners were in the yard, sweeping up some refuse that had accumulated there. Each was chained to an iron ball which weighed at least fifty pounds. Both of their faces bore the hopeless look of those who have suffered confinement for years.

Howard turned back into the prison, and began to search for a stairway leading to the second story. It was soon found, and he mounted silently, his ears strained to catch the first sound of an alarm.

The upper floor of the prison gained, Howard began to make an examination of the windows. They were all either heavily barred, or too narrow to admit the passage of his body.

Turning from them regretfully, yet full of hope still, he made his way to a set of rooms marked "Private Office." A door was ajar, and, peering in, he saw a luxuriously furnished apartment. To his great joy, he saw that it was empty.

He slipped inside, and perceived that he had entered a room used by the keeper of the prison as an office. On the walls hung various weapons, and on a desk lay half a dozen large books of prison records.

The records did not just then interest him, and he turned to one of the two windows. Both were shut and barred, but to his intense delight he saw that in one place a bar was loose.

He was trying to noiselessly open the window, when he heard rapid footsteps in the corridor without. The footsteps came closer, and Howard had just time to conceal himself behind a big arm-chair, when the door was flung open and Captain Nocolo entered, followed by the head-keeper of the prison.

"Yes, I want to interview this Howard Sherwood," Captain Nocolo was saying. "He is a----"

An alarm from below cut short his words. Howard's escape had been discovered, and in less than a minute the wildest excitement prevailed.

"Guard every door, every window, and all the walls!" was the order issued. "He has not yet left the building, and must be found!"