One of
the warders, on having the same inquiry put to him which Bruce had
addressed to his superior, in a rough tone replied:
"He had best not ask questions, lest he should hear that his majesty
had determined to keep him under Bishop Beck's padlock for life."
Bruce was not to be deprived of hope by a single evidence, and smiling,
said:
"There are more ways of getting out of a tyrant's prison, than by the
doors and windows!"
"Why, you would not eat through the walls?" cried the man.
"Certainly," replied Bruce, "if I have no other way, and through the
guards too."
"We'll see to that," answered the man.
"And feel it too, my sturdy jailer," returned the prince; "so look to
yourself."
Bruce threw himself recklessly into a chair as he spoke; while the man,
eying him askance, and remembering how strangely the minstrel had
disappeared, began to think that some people born in Scotland inherited
from nature a necromantic power of executing whatever they determined.
Though careless in his manner of treating the warder's information,
Bruce thought of it with anxiety; and lost in reflections, checkered
with hope and doubt of his ever effecting an escape, he remained
immovable on the spot where the man had left him, till another sentinel
brought in a lamp.
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