ith him bearing a pitcher of water and some cakes of
native corn. The soldier stood whilst the man deposited his burden;
then both turned and went out without speaking a word. The cakes were
passed round, and each man quickly broke his open. Nothing was
secreted in them, and eager looks were changed to those of
disappointment. Morgan took up the pitcher, drank, and passed to
Jeffreys, who handed it to Nick; and so it went round, each drinking a
little, curbing his desires in order that some of the precious liquid
might remain for the wakeful watches of the night. Darkness came, but
it brought little or no rest. Swarms of mosquitoes came in and bit
their hapless victims mercilessly as they tossed and turned on the bare
earthen floor. The nights of captivity were worse than the days. At
intervals the pitcher went round; but the water had got lukewarm, and
refreshed them little enough.

Day broke, and the pitcher circulated for a last time. The tilting of
the vessel brought a happy discovery: the Indian had been true to his
promise. A small spearhead was wedged across the bottom.

Here was hope, and also employment during the dreary hours. Nick
seized the welcome implement with a cry of joy, and he could not be
persuaded to refrain from using it at once. He measured Morgan's
shoulders on the wall.

"This," said he, "must be the width of the hole. Let me trace it."

In the corner, from the floor upwards, he marked off a rectangular
space.

"We shall have to loosen a block of wall this size, push it out at the
right moment, crawl through, put it back again to avert suspicion, and
then make the best of our way into the forest. That was how we escaped
from Vera Cruz; the trick should serve us a second time."

"Three hide better than seven," suggested Jeffreys.

"And seven can fight better than three," added the sailor. "We shall
do no good in the forest without weapons. The game will not walk to
our fire to be cooked. Either Dons or Indians must furnish us. We lie
here, sheep in a pen, awaiting the butcher. If I am to die in Panama,
let it be no sheep's death."

Each heart echoed these sentiments, and all resolved to risk the
desperate chances for life and liberty. Operations were commenced at
once. It was no great undertaking to remove, with proper tools, a
block of baked clay, some three feet or so by two feet, from a typical
Panama wall. The prison wall was about three feet thick, and almost a