mouth, of the tunnel, and
seemed to be making a critical survey of the entire place. They remained
an unusually long time and conversed in low tones; several of them even
kicked the loose straw about; and in fact everything seemed to indicate
to Johnson--who was the only one of the working party now in the
cellar--that the long-averted discovery had been made. That night he
reported matters fully to Rose at the fireplace opening.

The tunnel was now nearly completed, and when Rose conveyed Johnson's
message to the party it caused dismay. Even the stout-hearted Hamilton
was for once excited, and the leader whose unflinching fortitude had
thus far inspired his little band had his brave spirits dashed. But his
buoyant courage rose quickly to its high and natural level. He could not
longer doubt that the suspicions of the Confederates were aroused, but
he felt convinced that these suspicions had not as yet assumed such a
definite shape as most of his companions thought; still, he had abundant
reason to believe that the success of the tunnel absolutely demanded its
speedy completion, and he now firmly resolved that a desperate effort
should be made to that end. Remembering that the next day was Sunday,
and that it was not customary for the Confederates to visit the
operating-cellar on that day, he determined to make the most in his
power of the now precious time. He therefore caused all the party to
remain up-stairs, directing them to keep a close watch upon the
Confederates from all available points of observation, to avoid being
seen in whispering groups,--in short, to avoid all things calculated to
excite the curiosity of friends or the suspicion of enemies,--and to
await his return.

Taking McDonald with him, he went down through the fireplace before
daylight on Sunday morning, and, bidding Johnson to keep a vigilant
watch for intruders and McDonald to fan air into him, he entered the
tunnel and began the forlorn hope. From this time forward he never once
turned over the chisel to a relief.

All day long he worked with the tireless patience of a beaver. When
night came, even his single helper, who performed the double duty of
fanning air and hiding the excavated earth, was ill from his hard, long
task and the deadly air of the cellar. Yet this was as nothing compared
with the fatigue of the duty that Rose had performed; and when at last,
far into the night, he backed into the cellar, he had scarcely strength
enough to