Under the guns of the guards, the prisoners were marched across the open to a row of shacks in the distance.
“Wonder where they’ll put us, Chester?” said Hal.
“Don’t know,” replied Chester, “but I can’t see that it makes any difference.”
“There is room for a couple of more in my shack,” said Harding. “You boys just walk in with me as though you belonged there. Maybe they’ll let you stay.”
The lads acted on this advice and a few moments later were in the little hovel that Harding called home. Hal took in his surroundings with a calculating eye.
There was only one window, through which the sun now streamed. There was no door beside the one through which they had entered. Hal gave a start of surprise when he saw that the window was not barred.
“I thought of course they’d have bars there,” he said, pointing. “Looks to me like a fellow might crawl out in the middle of the night.”
“So you could,” returned Harding, “but that wouldn’t help anything. There are thousands of armed guards around this place. You wouldn’t have much of a chance getting through.”
“It’s been tried, though, I suppose?” queried Chester.
“Yes; and there’s a graveyard behind us that has more occupants as a result. I believe that several men have succeeded in getting through, but I can’t say positively. It’s only talk among the prisoners.”