But I'm thinking of asking Josh Durkin. Hearing the noise of the scuffle, the tapstress, fancying it was Jack making an effort to escape, in spite of the remonstrances of the executioner, threw open the wicket. Daughters were in the air that day. “Tell him to drive—anywhere,” she exclaimed. By this time, Jack's reputation had risen to such a height with the populace,—his exploits having become the universal theme of discourse, that the streets were almost impassable for the crowds collected to obtain a view of him. So, step by step, and hurt by hurt, Ruth was learning that John Smith was John Smith and nobody else.
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