ing.
Remember one thing. Treat the jailer as gently as possible. He has been a
kind fellow where some would have been the reverse."

"Aye," murmured his companions. It was an order which had their hearty
sympathy.

In a little while there was the long-expected creaking at the door. It was
supper time! Two negroes entered and placed some pans containing food upon
the table. Then they retired, and the door was locked.

"Eat, boys," whispered Watson; "we don't know when we may get our next
square meal."

The men soon disposed of the food. Hardly had they finished before the
door was thrown open, and the jailer, an elderly, bearded man, appeared.

"Good-evening, men," he said, in a pleasant, unsuspicious voice. He halted
at the doorway with the keys in his right hand.

It was a terrible moment. George felt as if he were living ten years in
that one instant.

[Illustration: Watson Placed His Hand Over the Man's Mouth]

"Good-evening, sir," said Watson, approaching the jailer. "It's such a
very pleasant evening that we intend to take a little walk." He threw back
the door as he spoke.

The jailer was unprepared for this move. He did not even divine what was
intended.

"How--what do you mean----" he faltered.

"We've had enough of prison life," said Macgreggor, in a calm, even voice,
"and we are going to leave you. Now give up the keys, and keep very quiet,
or you'll find----"

"Keep off!" cried the jailer, as he tightened his hold on the bunch of
keys. He was about to call for help, but Watson placed his left hand over
the man's mouth, and with his right clutched the unfortunate's throat.
Then Macgreggor seized the keys, after a sharp but decisive struggle, and
hurried into the hallway, where he began to release the general prisoners.
He quickly unlocked in succession the doors of the three other rooms on
the second floor. The men thus freed did not understand the significance
of it all, but they saw unexpected liberty staring them in the face, and
they ran out of their quarters like so many sheep.

Meanwhile the members of the engine expedition, with the exception of
Watson and Macgreggor, had run almost noiselessly down the staircase,
through the jailer's quarters on the first floor, and thus out into the
prison yard. Some of them threw themselves upon the three soldiers in the
rear of the yard, wrenched from them their muskets, crying out at the same
time: "Make a movement or a cry and we'll shoot you down!