After a few days, they found that their cell had been entered, and
nearly all their provisions stolen. Not contented with this, the act
was repeated for several days, and all the means they provided to
detect the thief proved fruitless. The jailer made several searches
through their remonstrances, but without effecting any thing. They
kept their provisions in a little box, which they locked with a
padlock; but as Daley had the keys of the cell, they had no means of
locking the door. At length Manuel set a trap that proved effectual.
One morning Tommy came puffing into the jail with a satchel over his
back. "I guess Manuel won't feel downhearted when he sees this--do
you think he will?" said the little fellow, as he put the satchel
upon the floor and looked up at the jailer. "An' I've got some
cigars, too, the Captain sent, in my pocket," said he, nodding his
head; and putting his hand into a side-pocket, pulled out one and
handed it to the jailer.
"Ah! you are a good little fellow-worth a dozen of our boys. Sit
down and rest yourself," said the jailer, and called a monstrous
negro wench to bring a chair and take the satchel up to the cell.
Then turning to the back-door, he called Manuel; and, as if
conscious of Tommy's arrival, the rest of the stewards followed. He
sprang from the chair as soon as he saw Manuel, and running toward
him, commenced telling him what he had got in the satchel and at
the same time pulled out a handful of segars that the Captain had
sent for himself.
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