It was this unity of sentiment between the Jehu from the Green Mountains and the minstrel from the Indiana "Pocket" that gave Albert a chance for liberty.
The prisoner was handcuffed and confined in an upper room, the windows of which were securely boarded up on the outside.

About three o'clock of the last night he spent in Metropolisville, the deputy marshal, who in the evening preceding had helped to empty two or three times the ample flask of Mr.Westcott, was sleeping very soundly.

Albert, who was awake, heard the nails drawn from the boards.

Presently the window was opened, and a familiar voice said in a dramatic tone: "Mr.Charlton, git up and foller." Albert arose and went to the window.
"Come right along, I 'low the coast's clear," said the Poet.
"No, I can not do that, Gray," said Charlton, though the prospect of liberty was very enticing.
"See here, mister, I calkilate es this is yer last chance fer fifteen year ur more," put in the driver, thrusting his head in alongside his Hoosier friend's.
"Come," added Gray, "you an' me'll jest put out together fer the Ingin kedentry ef you say so, and fetch up in Kansas under some fancy names, and take a hand in the wras'le that's agoin' on thar.

Nobody'll ever track you.