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Dunderdale, George, 1822-1903

"The Book of the Bush Containing Many Truthful Sketches Of The Early Colonial Life Of Squatters, Whalers, Convicts, Diggers, And Others Who Left Their Native Land And Never Returned"

He had finished his education,
so I did not attempt to control him by moral suasion, or by anything
else, but by degrees I succeeded in eliciting from him all the
particulars he could impart about the criminals under his care.
There was no fence around the gaol, and Silas kept two of them always
locked in. He "calkilated they wer kinder unsafe." They belonged to
a society of horse thieves whose members were distributed at regular
intervals along the prairies, and who forwarded their stolen animals
by night to Chicago. The two gentlemen in gaol were of an
untrustworthy character, and would be likely to slip away. About a
week after my arrival I met Silas coming out of the gaol, and he said:
"They're gone, be gosh." Silas never wasted words.
"Who is gone?" I inquired.
"Why, them two horse thieves. Just look here."
We went round to the east side of the gaol, and there was a hole
about two feet deep, and just wide enough to let a man through. The
ground underneath the wall was rocky, but the two prisoners had been
industrious, had picked a hole under the wall and had gone through.
"Where's the Sheriff?" I asked. "Won't Mr. Cunningham go after the men?"
"He's away at Bourbonnais' Grove, about suthin' or other, among the
Bluenoses; can't say when he'll be back; it don't matter anyhow. He
might just as well try to go to hell backwards as catch them two
horse thieves now.


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