Hugh was well acquainted with the keeper, who admitted them cheerfully, and ushered them at once into the spacious yard.
Pleased with Alice's enthusiastic interest in everything he said, the keeper was quite communicative, pointing out the cells of any noted felons, repeating little incidents of daring attempts to escape, and making the visit far more entertaining than the party had expected.
"This," he said, opening a narrow door, "this belongs to the negro stealer, Sullivan.

You know him, Mrs.Worthington.He ran off the old darky you now own, old Sam, I mean." "I'd like to see Mr.Sullivan," Alice said.

"I saw old Sam when he was in Virginia." "We'll find him on the ropewalk.

We put our hardest customers there.

Not that he gives us trouble, for he does not, and I rather like the chap, but we have a spite against these Yankee negro stealers," was the keeper's reply, as he led the way to the long low room, where groups of men walked up and down--up and down--holding the long line of hemp, which, as far as they were concerned, would never come to an end until the day of their release.
"That's he," the keeper whispered to Alice, who had fallen behind Hugh and his mother.