This is simply a chapter of coincidences. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. "With me?" said Thames. ‘Certainly I have them with me. There has never been a white woman at McClintock's. It was a grand life. " "Don't hurry yourself," said Jonathan, "I'll wait for you here. Yes!" she screamed, "these are his father's features! It is—it is my son!" "Mother!" cried Thames; "are you, indeed, my mother?" "I am, indeed—my own sweet boy!" she sobbed, pressing him tenderly to her breast. All the jailers declared it utterly impossible he could have accomplished his astonishing task unaided; but who had lent him assistance was a question they were unable to answer. I don't know how to explain it," said Spurlock, "but music hits women queerly. " McClintock preferred to put it thus.
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