Yielding to its dictates, he sallied forth, determined upon doing his duty.
Chapter Thirty Seven.
Death upon the Drum-Head.
“I’ll come to you! I will come!”
Proud was the heart of the prisoner, as he heard that cheering speech, and saw whence it had come. It repaid him for the insults he was enduring.
It was still ringing sweetly in his ears, as he was forced through a doorway, and on into a paved court enclosed by gloomy walls.
At the bottom of this, an apartment resembling a prison-cell opened to receive him.
He was thrust into it, like a refractory bullock brought back to its pen, one of his guards giving him a kick as he stepped over the threshold.