They did all they could to bring the outlaw to a sense of his
condition, to prepare him to meet his fate and to induce him to make a
confession and give up the retreat of his band.
And Donald listened to them with respect, acknowledged himself a great
sinner, and knelt with them when they knelt to pray for him.
But he denied that he was guilty of the murders for which he had been
doomed to die, and he utterly refused to give up his old companions,
replying to the ministers in something like these words: "Poor wretches! They are no more fit to die than I am, and a condemned
cell, with the thought of the scaffold before him, are not exactly the
most favorable circumstances under which a man might experience sincere
repentance, my masters!"
And so, while the convict listened with docility to all that the
ministers had to say, he steadily persisted in asserting his own
innocence of the crimes for which he was condemned, and in his refusal
to deliver up his companions.
Meantime, Capitola, at Hurricane Hall, was doing all she could to
discover or invent means to save the life of Black Donald. But still
she said no more about it even to Old Hurricane.
One evening, while Cap was sitting by the fire with her thoughts busy
with this subject, her uncle came in saying: "Cap, I have got some curiosities to show you!"
"What are they?" said Cap, languidly.
"A set of burglar's tools, supposed to belong to some member of Black
Donald's band! One of my negroes found them in the woods in the
neighborhood of the Devil's Punch Bowl! I wrote to the sheriff
concerning them, and he requested me to take care of them until he
should have occasion to call for them. Look! Did you ever see such
things?" said Old Hurricane, setting down a canvas bag upon the table
and turning out from it all sorts of strange looking instruments--tiny
saws, files, punches, screws, picks, etc., etc., etc.
Cap looked at them with the most curious interest, while Old Hurricane
explained their supposed uses.
"It must have been an instrument of this sort, Cap, that that blamed
demon, Donald, gave to the imprisoned men to file their fetters off
with!" he said, showing a thin file of tempered steel.
"That!" said Cap. "Hand it here! Let me see it!" And she examined it
with the deepest interest.
"I wonder what they force locks with?" she inquired.
"Why, this, and this, and this!" said Old Hurricane, producing a
burglar's pick, saw and chisel.