that the desired distance had been made, that he turned his direction
upward, and soon broke through to the surface. A glance showed him his
nearly fatal blunder, against which, indeed, he had been earnestly
warned by Rose, who from the first had carefully estimated the
intervening distance between the east wall of Libby and the terminus. In
fact, McDonald saw that he had broken through in the open lot which was
all in full view of a sentinel who was dangerously close. Appalled by
what he had done, he retreated to the cellar and reported the disaster
to his companions. Believing that discovery was now certain, the party
sent one of their number up the rope to report to Rose, who was asleep.
The hour was about midnight when the leader learned of the mischief. He
quickly got up, went down cellar, entered the tunnel, and examined the
break. It was not so near the sentinel's path as McDonald's excited
report indicated, and fortunately the breach was at a point whence the
surface sloped downward toward the east. He took off his blouse and
stuffed it into the opening, pulling the dirt over it noiselessly, and
in a few minutes there was little surface evidence of the hole. He then
backed into the cellar in the usual crab fashion, and gave directions
for the required depression of the tunnel and vigorous resumption of
the work. The hole made in the roof of the tunnel was not much larger
than a rat-hole and could not be seen from the prison. But the next
night Rose shoved an old shoe out of the hole, and the day afterward he
looked down through the prison bars and saw the shoe lying where he had
placed it, and judged from its position that he had better incline the
direction of the tunnel slightly to the left.

Meantime Captain Johnson was dragging out a wretched existence in Rat
Hell, and for safety was obliged to confine himself by day to the dark
north end, for the Confederates often came into the place very suddenly
through the south entrance. When they ventured too close, Johnson would
get into a pit that he had dug under the straw as a hiding-hole both for
himself and the tunnelers' tools, and quickly cover himself with a huge
heap of short packing-straw. A score of times he came near being stepped
upon by the Confederates, and more than once the dust of the straw
compelled him to sneeze in their very presence.

On Saturday, February 6, a larger party than usual of the Confederates
came into the cellar, walked by the very