ects. At least the
names sounded treasonable. He denied the request.

The prisoner asked for his trunk and clothes. Miles decided to keep them
in his own office and dole out the linen by his own standards of need.

Davis turned to his physician with a flash of anger.

"It's contemptible that they should thus dole out my clothes as if I
were a convict in some penitentiary. They mean to degrade me. It can't
be done. No man can be degraded by unmerited insult heaped upon the
helpless. Such acts can only degrade their perpetrators. The day will
come when the people will blush at the memory of such treatment--"

At last the loss of sleep proved beyond his endurance. He had tried to
fight it out but gave up in a burst of passionate protest to Dr. Craven.
The sight of his eye was failing. The horror of blindness chilled his
soul.

"My treatment here," he began with an effort at restraint, "is killing
me by inches. Let them make shorter work of it. I can't sleep. No man
can live without sleep. My jailers know this. I am never alone a
moment--always the eye of a guard staring at me day and night. If I doze
a feverish moment the noise of the relieving guard each two hours wakes
me and the blazing lamp pours its glare into my aching throbbing eyes.
There must be a change or I shall go mad or blind or both."

He paused a moment and lifted his hollow face to the physician
pathetically.

"Have you ever been conscious of being watched? Of having an eye fixed
on you every moment, scrutinizing your smallest act, the change of the
muscles of your face or the pose of your body? To have a human eye
riveted on you every moment, waking, sleeping, sitting, walking, is a
refinement of torture never dreamed of by a Comanche Indian--it is the
eye of a spy or an enemy gloating over the pain and humiliation which it
creates. The lamp burning in my eyes is a form of torment devised by
someone who knew my habit of life never to sleep except in total
darkness. When I took old Black Hawk the Indian Chief a captive to our
barracks at St. Louis I shielded him from the vulgar gaze of the
curious. I have lived too long in the woods to be frightened by an owl
and I've seen Death too often to flinch at any form of pain--but this
torture of being forever watched is beginning to prey on my reason."

The doctor's report that day was written in plain English:

"I find Mr. Davis in a very critical state, his nervous debility
extreme, his mind desponden