20 OVER ON THE ISLAND

town there is a record of one debtor who was in prison four years and four months.”

“ Four years and four months.

”Yes.”

“Heavens! No wonder debtors tried to flee then. ”

“ No wonder, indeed!”

”Well, it was the custom in those days for the bailiff to watch the mail-bags loaded on the sleigh, then jump on and ride down to the ice-boats. He would then have an opportunity of looking over the pas- sengers to see if any debtors or such like were among the ice—boat crowd. One misty morning the boats were loaded as usual and the bailiff rode down with them as he was in the habit of doing. Then the bags were piled on a boat and covered with a tarpaulin to keep them dry, while the sherifl went snooping around to see what he could see. The bailiff shook his head. ‘Not here to-day? Oh, well, he’ll be along soon.’ And the boats were off.

“When the boats had been pulled out into the Strait a safe distance, the fugitive crawled out of a mail-bag. He was a little man!”

“Heard about it,” said Cap.

I went on down to the wharf. There the river had been encouraged to run in a narrow channel for boat navigation. Over on one side, about two hundred yards from the shore, was an ordinary-looking old building. A man pointed it out to me. “It is,” he said, “part of the original ice—boat house.”

Ice-boats!

Not far up the shore the new car ferry steamed majestically into Borden.

H