Then followed one of the disgusting exhibitions which so often disgrace all kinds of public executions. Five only remained dangling in the air. Campbell and Slavens, being very heavy, broke their ropes, and fell to the ground insensible. When they revived, they asked and received a drink of water. Then they requested an hour to pray before entering the future world. This most reasonable petition, which would not have been denied to the most hardened murderer under civilized rule, was sternly denied, as if they wished to do their utmost to murder both soul and body. As soon as the ropes could be readjusted they were compelled to mount the scaffold once more, and were again turned off. CHAPTER XV. PRISON RELIGION. The afternoon following the execution of our brave comrades was one of indescribable sorrow, gloom and fear. We knew not how soon we might be compelled to follow in the same path and drink the same bitter cup. As has been before narrated, we had offered at Knoxville to accept the award of the court in one of the cases as the sentence of all, since there was not the slightest difference among us. At that time, however, we were confident of acquittal. Now that confidence had utterly vanished, and no one of our number anticipated anything but speedy death on the scaffold. But even without the addition of apprehension for ourselves, the parting from our loved friends, whose voices were still ringing in our ears, while they themselves had passed beyond the gates of death into the unknown land of shadows, was enough to rend the stoutest heart. Few words were spoken, but tears and sobs were frequent. I could not shed a tear. A fierce fever burned in my veins, and my head seemed as if on fire. For hours I scarcely knew where I was, or the loss I had sustained. Every glance around the room, which revealed the vacant place of our friends, would bring our sorrow in a new wave upon us again. Slowly the afternoon wore on in grief too deep for words, and despair too black for hope.