an upper story,
and several locked doors had to be opened before we could reach the
ground. There were seven guards keeping watch over us, and a large
force near by ready to rush to their assistance at the slightest
notice. It was evident that our only chance of success lay in moving
very quickly and silently. We could not leave at night, for then all
the doors were closed, and we had no means of opening them. The best
time was at supper, which was brought a little before sundown, and by
starting then, we would soon have the cover of darkness to conceal our
flight. The soldiers in the next room, and a deserter who was confined
with them, agreed to go with us, if we would open their door. Only one
of the Tennesseeans, named Barlow, would risk the trial, although they
were anxious for the movement before it was seriously contemplated.

The plan on which we finally settled, was to seize the jailor when he
came to take out the buckets in which our supper was brought, holding
him so that he could make no noise, take the keys from him, and let
Buffum unlock the doors and release the remaining prisoners. While
this was being done, our other boys would divide into two squads, and,
cautiously descending the stairway, pounce upon the guards, and take
their guns from them; then, at a signal, we would all come down, and
march, thus armed, on our homeward journey. We very nearly succeeded
in our programme.

The second day after receiving the news, all our plans were completed.
We had patched our clothes as best we could, and made cloth moccasins
to protect our feet, for many of our shoes were altogether worn out.
Now we only awaited the approach of the appointed hour. Slowly the sun
rolled down the west; slowly the shadows lengthened in the east, till
the gloomy shade of the jail had nearly reached the crest of the hill
which usually marked our supper time. The eventful hour drew nigh. We
bade one another a solemn farewell, for we knew not when we should
meet again on earth, or how many of us might be cold and lifeless
before the stars shone out. Captain Fry, who was tender-hearted as a
child, wept at the parting. He had two coats, and, as he could not
take both with him, he gave one to me. I needed it extremely, for I
was very nearly destitute of clothing.

Everything was now in readiness. I had piled up the books of the
minister, some of which we still retained, in the corner, and had
written him a note thanking him for the us