They stank, and she hated how they blocked the sunlight. "No, no," rejoined Thames; "fly—or I will not answer for your safety. That poor child, trying to escape, and not knowing how. " "Iss, Massa Austin," replied the black. God forgive you!" "May He, indeed, forgive me!" returned Trenchard, crossing himself devoutly; "but my guilt is not the less heavy, because your child escaped. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen.
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