the stone walls were blackened with smoke, but the lower story of the court house was bastile enough, the windows barred, the walls strong and thick. The place in which they thrust me had at one time protected the county records, was perhaps nine feet square, with one narrow window high up in the wall, and an iron door. The floor and walls were of stone, and the ceiling beyond reach. A soldier threw in a box, to be utilized as a seat, together with a couple of blankets.
"There, Johnny," he said carelessly, "I guess you'll stay here till you're wanted. There'll be some grub along after awhile."
The iron door clanged behind him, and I heard the sharp click of a heavy lock, then regular steps passing back and forth across the stone floor, proof that a sentinel had been posted. There seemed little need of one as I sat down on the box, and stared disconsolately about. The window afforded ample light, but no hope of escape. I could barely reach it with my hands by standing on the box, and the opening, even if the iron grating could be removed, was far too small to permit the passage of my body. I merely glanced at the patch of blue sky thus revealed, and then permitted my eyes to wander along the solid walls, until they encountered the only bit of the original furnishings of this underground vault—
