At this terrible juncture, Jack maintained his composure,—a smile played upon his face before the cap was drawn over it,—and the last words he uttered were, "My poor mother! I shall soon join her!" The rope was then adjusted, and the cart began to move. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. “I am a fool,” he said. Kneebone. In the mean time, let me advise you as a friend not to irritate him by a refusal, which would be as useless as vexatious.
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