It was the third night of his incarceration, that, springing to his feet, he listened intently. There were three distinct taps on the door.
“The rescuers—the gang—I’m saved!” he muttered, as he gave three taps on the door, in response.
“What’s the word?” was asked from the outside.
“C. S. A. and the Bars!” answered Walker. “And you?”
“Good! Union against oppression!”
“To-night?” asked Walker, with eagerness.
“No, the pal on the other side ain’t for Union. Can’t before day after to-morrow. Jim goes on then, and though it ain’t my turn, I think I can get pony No. 2 drunk, and the job can be done. I’ll try.”
“Be cautious. Trust no one without the word. It was the neglect on my part, thinking it all right, to demand the ‘words,’ which brought me into this scrape!”
The “rounds” approached, and the sentinel was relieved.
Nothing of importance transpired in camp for the next three days. An unusual quiet prevailed. It is true, there was much talk upon the subject of the attempted murder, and many expressions of bitterness against Walker. Some even went so far as to suggest the hanging of that wretch before the army left Springfield, lest he should escape. None were more vehement than a repulsive looking soldier, known throughout camp as “ugly Jim!” He stated that he had been on guard only a few nights before in front of the prisoner’s quarters, and that he had every reason to believe Walker was trying to escape, adding that he wished he had been satisfied of the fact, as he would have been glad of an opportunity to put a bullet through the murderous scoundrel.