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Updated: June 4, 2025
In the course of the day Sam was duly arrested at the suit of his father, and Sam, having been formally delivered into the warden's custody, passed at once into the prison, and went straight to his master's room. "I'm a pris'ner, sir," said Sam. "I was arrested this here wery arternoon for debt, and the man as put me in 'ull never let me out till you go yourself."
It puts quite a crimp in Bowlaigs. The mother b'ar, full of s'licitoode to save her offspring turns, an' charges Dave; tharupon Dave downs her, an' young Bowlaigs becomes a orphan an' a pris'ner on the spot.
Peters do be a bit superstitious. 'Peters took him then, I suppose? The Colonel smiled ironically. 'Beggin' YOUR pardon, sir, it was rather 'im as took Peters. 'E walked strite up to 'im, an' "Ware is the burra sahib?" says 'e. Peters sends 'im into the guard tent to me as 'e passed on his beat, and pris'ner says "YOU ain't the burra sahib," says he.
"Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner ough! ough; the Markis o' Slaughterford " Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. "No Mohocks! No Scourers!" cried the mob. "Hear! hear!" vociferated Quilt. "His lordship desires me to say ough! ough!" Fresh groans and hisses.
You don't know what it is to never have had anybody to love you, and then suddenly to find that there is some one that wants you!" The preacher turned to the officer and said: "I'm a law-abiding citizen, sheriff." And the sheriff replied: "He's your pris'ner." "Then suppose I let him go, on his promise to stick to his father for the rest of his life!" "He's your pris'ner," repeated the sheriff.
With a low bow the interpreter turned away, and taking Martin by the arm led him into an inner apartment, where, having securely fastened the window, he said to him, "De Baron say you be von blackguard tief; go bout contrie for steal diamonds. He make pris'ner ov you. Adios."
During the daylight hours of several autumn Saturdays there had been severe outbreaks of cavalry in the Schofield neighbourhood. The sabres were of wood; the steeds were imaginary, and both were employed in a game called "bonded pris'ner" by its inventors, Masters Penrod Schofield and Samuel Williams. The pastime was not intricate.
If he expected this appeal to be of any benefit to him he was sorely disappointed, for the gloomy, repellent expression on the faces of his judges, was only deepened by his ill-advised address. A moment or two of complete silence followed the utterance of his closing words; and then Rogers, looking him straight in the face, said "Well, pris'ner, have yer quite finished?"
A significant thing is to be remarked concerning the door of this somewhat intimate treasury: there was no knob or latch upon the inner side, so that, when the door was closed, it could be opened only from the outside. "There!" said Penrod. "You get in there, Verman, and I'll bet they won't get to touch you back out o' bein' our pris'ner very soon, NOW! Oh, I guess not!" "Pshaw!" said Sam.
These and others caught sight of the writhing figures, and charged down upon them with loud cries of triumph. "Pris'ner! Pris'ner! Bonded pris'ner!" shrieked Roddy Bitts, and touched Penrod and Sam, each in turn, with his sabre.
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