" "Thank God for that!" cried Wood, heartily. Before an hour had elapsed, the concourse was fearfully increased. ‘My dear boy, your loyalty is misplaced. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. “You know what? You’re right. Mike chortled. "You'd better surrender quietly, Jack," he cried; "you've no chance.
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