Ralph felt that he was in the midst of a series of strange adventures and discoveries that might lead to important results, not only for the person he had so strangely met, but for himself, as well.
This impression was enforced as he watched his captor pace up and down the ground, muttering wildly. He seemed to have some deep-rooted hatred for Gasper Farrington. "Revenge," "Punishment," "Justice," were the words that he constantly uttered. Ralph wondered what course he could pursue to get the man down to a level of coherency and reason. Finally the man said:
"Come, get up, we must find some shelter."
After an hour of arduous tramping they came to an old barn that had been partly burned down. There was some hay in it. The convict lay down on this, unloosed one handcuff from the wrist of his prisoner, and attached the other to his own arm and lay as if in a daze until daybreak. Now he could inspect his prisoner clearly, and Ralph could study the worn, frenzied face of his captor. The latter had calmed down somewhat.
"Boy," he said, finally, "I don't dare to let you go, and I don't know what to do."
"See here," spoke Ralph, "you are in deep trouble. I don't want to make you any more trouble. Suppose you tell me all about yourself and see if I can't help you out."
