maybe we can hear what
Mr. Cameron said about Ashburn."

"I doan' know nuttin', General," pleaded the old darkey. "I ain't heard
nuttin'--I ain't seed Marse Ben fer two monts."

"You needn't lie to us. The rebels have been posting you. But it's no use.
We'll get it out of you."

"'Fo' Gawd, Marster, I'se telling de truf!"

"Put him in the dark cell and keep him there the balance of his life
unless he tells," was the order.

At the end of four days, Phil was summoned again to witness the show.

John was carried to another part of the fort and shown the sweat-box.

"Now tell all you know or in you go!" said his tormentor.

The negro looked at the engine of torture in abject terror--a closet in
the walls of the fort just big enough to admit the body, with an
adjustable top to press down too low for the head to be held erect. The
door closed tight against the breast of the victim. The only air admitted
was through an auger-hole in the door.

The old man's lips moved in prayer.

"Will you tell?" growled the Captain.

"I cain't tell ye nuttin' 'cept'n' a lie!" he moaned.

They thrust him in, slammed the door, and in a loud voice the Captain
said:

"Keep him there for thirty days unless he tells."

He was left in the agony of the sweat-box for thirty-three hours and taken
out. His limbs were swollen and when he attempted to walk he tottered and
fell.

The guard jerked him to his feet, and the Captain said:

"I'm afraid we've taken him out too soon, but if he don't tell he can go
back and finish the month out."

The poor old negro dropped in a faint, and they carried him back to his
cell.

Phil determined to spare no means, fair or foul, to secure Ben's release
from the clutches of these devils. He had as yet been unable to locate his
place of confinement.

He continued his ruse of friendly curiosity, kept in touch with the
Captain, and the Captain in touch with his pocketbook.

Summoned to witness another interesting ceremony, he hurried to the fort.

The officer winked at him confidentially, and took him out to a row of
dungeons built of logs and ceiled inside with heavy boards. A single pane
of glass about eight inches square admitted light ten feet from the
ground.

There was a commotion inside, curses, groans, and cries for mercy mingling
in rapid succession.

"What is it?" asked Phil.

"Hell's goin' on in there!" laughed the officer.

"Evidently."

A heavy crash, as though a ton weight h