The place in which George found himself so roughly thrust was pitch dark. He vainly turned from side to side to discover, if possible, what his surroundings were, but he could see nothing. The ominous "clumping" of the bars as the rebel soldiers put them in place, warned him that they had no idea of giving him any opportunity of escape, and he must be content for a while at least to remain where he was and make the best of things. He listened for the sound of retreating footsteps, but, hearing none, concluded that the two men had been told off to mount guard over him, thus making his captivity doubly secure.
Waiting for a moment or two, to get accustomed to the darkness, he proceeded to feel his way about, in the hopes of finding something on which to sit and rest; but, after hesitatingly moving round the walls, he came to the conclusion that the hut was bare of all furniture, and if he wished for rest he must sit on the ground. Being somewhat philosophical, this he did, leaning his back against the wall, and gave himself up to formulating a plan of campaign. This was no easy matter; he had but the vaguest ideas what his fate was to be, and therefore it was impossible to know what was the best line of action to adopt.
The one thing he feared was that there was no sufficiently powerful rebel here to protect him from the barbarity of the half-wild soldiery; and if this were so, his life, when daylight came, would not be worth twopence. If Mark Arden happened to be in command he might possibly attempt to save him for a worse fate than even the one he had already pictured; of the two, he would sooner face the soldiers, for then his end would be swift, and he could at least face it like a man.
His thoughts brought him so little comfort, so little hope, that at last he put them from him altogether, and, in spite of all his danger, in spite of all this discomfort, he curled himself up and slept the sound refreshing sleep of a tired man. Once more he was back in Germany, once more amongst the students of the University; the Debating Society was in full swing, and he was again enacting that little drama in the club-rooms. Somehow Arabi was mixed up with it all, encouraging him to help his friend from the bullying Landauer, smiling brightly on him as he uttered the scathing words preceding his challenge. Suddenly in the midst of it all there came a terrific peal of thunder, and he awoke with a start, to hear the bars being removed from his prison-door and to see the bright sunlight streaming in through cracks in both roof and wall of the cranky hut.
He rubbed his eyes for a moment to make sure he was not still dreaming, then, as the door was flung open and the dirty face of a ragged, half-dressed soldier appeared, he recollected everything, and sprang to his feet in anticipation of rough treatment.
Critically scanning the man who stood before him, George could not be certain if it was the same fellow who had thrust him in there the night before. He was not long left in doubt, for he was addressed in the broken English common to natives used to mixing with Europeans, and George knew at once that this was a fresh jailer.
"The officer will speak with the Englishman," he said with a grin.
"And how do you propose to drag me from here if I do not choose to go?" p. 181