Third Soldier. In the parlor, talking to company. This is his at home day.
[They all laugh.
First Soldier. He's pretty blue, I reckon. There's talk of hanging him for a spy. They didn't find no papers—only reason they sent him here.
Third Soldier. Who's the fellow came in last night?
First Soldier. Caybel, Cabell, or some such name. Had a close call, too. Don't know yet he's safe. He didn't let on, but I think he's a friend of Hillary. Both captured at the same place. Been trying to talk to him all day, but Old Hill watches pretty close when a new one comes in (Bill's voice outside, singing a snatch of a song). Watch out! Hide the scraps; here's Bill.
[They cover the remains of feast and checker board, and the sound of a key is heard in the door. Enter Bill, the turnkey. He is a gruff old fellow of about sixty, powerfully built, with a cold, hard face. He carries an old fashioned lantern and a bunch of keys.
Bill (holding up lantern, looking about). Here, you all, get up from there: go to bed. What do you think this is—a pleasure resort? (the men rise to their feet, facing him with sullen faces). Go in thar, you hear (he pushes them roughly to the door (Right). Wars them others?
First Soldier. In there.
Bill. Who else?
First Soldier. Three others.