Everything was put in readiness. I had carefully piled in a corner such of the books belonging to the minister as we still retained, and had written him a note of thanks for them. Anything that could be used as a weapon was now put within reach. At last the supper-hour came. We could not afford to lose a morsel of the scanty food, and ate it in silence. The jailer was not accustomed to come into the room, but merely opened the door and admitted the negroes who bore the pans filled with corn-bread. Old Thoer, the watchman whom everybody hated, was fortunately away. It was well, or he might have suffered. Turner we respected, and were determined not to injure if we could help it. After the jailer had given their food to the inmates of the other rooms he came back to ours and swung open the creaking door to remove the food-pans. This was the signal. It was a thrilling moment! On the action of the next few seconds hung the issues of life or death. I confess that for one instant the blood flowed to my heart with a sharp, piercing throb, and there came a sudden and terrible fear lest the fever-weakened body would not in this crisis obey the dictates of will. But this ceased before the door had swung wide enough open to admit the passage of a man. The others were pale but determined, and a single glance told me that there would be no faltering. As for Captain Fry, who was to initiate the movement,--supported by myself,--and whom I had seen weeping a few minutes before, he was perfectly calm, and his face wore a pleasant smile! As soon as the door had swung far enough he stepped adroitly through it as if this were the most natural thing in the world, and said, very quietly,-- "A pleasant evening, Mr. Turner." "Yes,--rather--pleasant," responded the jailer, looking bewildered by this movement, as he no doubt was. "We feel like taking a little walk this evening," continued the captain, while the door was forced clear back, and three of us stood abreast in it ready to spring. The astonishment of the jailer now knew no bounds. "What?--how?--where?" he gasped, in broken ejaculations. Fry's countenance grew darker as he clasped the old man in his arms, and said,-- "We have stayed as long as we can stand it, and are now going to leave and let the other prisoners out; so give up the keys, and make no noise about it, or it will be the worse for you!" [Illustration: LIBERTY OR DEATH. Page 255.] Turner tightened his grasp on the keys, whispered, hoarsely, "You can't do that," then threw himself back and began in a loud tone, "Guar--" when my hand closed across his mouth and stifled the incipient call for help. He bit my finger, but did no great damage.