A single moonbeam found its way into the place, making a thin rift in the darkness.

The judge sat down on the three-legged stool, which, with a shake-down bed, furnished the jail.

His loneliness was a great wave of misery that engulfed him.
"Well, just so my life ain't cut short!" he whispered.
He had known a varied career, and what he was pleased to call his unparalleled misfortunes had reduced him to all kinds of desperate shifts to live, but never before had the law laid its hands on him.
True, there had been times and seasons when he had been grateful for the gloom of the dark ways he trod, for echoes had taken the place of the living voice that had once spoken to his soul; but he could still rest his hand upon his heart and say that the law had always nodded to him to pass on.
Where was Solomon Mahaffy, and where Hannibal?
He felt that Mahaffy could fend for himself, but he experienced a moment of genuine concern when he thought of the child.

In spite of himself, his thoughts returned to him again and again.

But surely some one would shelter and care for him! "Yes--and work him like a horse, and probably abuse him into the bargain--" Then there was a scarcely audible rustle on the margin of the woods, a dry branch snapped loudly.