Only a few dim rays of light found their way into my dismal prison, and they came struggling through a small crevice in the double partition of thick pine boards that divided the “cell” from the knapsack-room. On this formidable partition I at once went to work, with extraordinary _nonchalance_, with a small six-bladed knife I had in my pocket. I think this course was much more laudable than that pursued by Mr. Thomas, when confined in the same apartment, with a knife for a companion. I worked diligently, cutting off one thin shaving after another, till night came; by which time I had actually cut a hole in the thick partition through which I could easily thrust my arm. Next morning, after a miserable fragment of repose on an old mattress, I arose early, and resumed my work. I had not been long at it when Sergeant Kinsley came down with some provisions for me, consisting of _bread and water_. I took the large tin cup of water from his hand, dashed it in his face, slammed the iron door to, braced it with one of my crutches, and went at my work again; while he, strangling, sputtering and swearing in wild rage, locked the door, and rushed up stairs. Cutting, splintering and shaving, I worked away, and by noon, I had made an aperture in the wall through which one might have thrown a hat—that wasn’t too wide in the brim. By and by, I heard some one coming down the steps, and a light from the door above shone down through the bars of the iron door. Some one unlocked it and entered. It was one of the guards—one who had been wounded in the service. “I have brought you your dinner,” said he. “They only gave me some bread and water for you, but I stole a nice piece of boiled beef from the cook-house. Here it is.” “Thank you,” I said, gladly accepting the repast. “What did Kinsley say?” “O, he’s as mad as a hornet! He said you threw the water in his face.” “So I did.” “Served him right,” said the guard, laughing. “He’s an overbearing young puppy, who never heard a bullet whistle in his life. I knocked him down one day, and he has been civil towards me ever since. Not very comfortable down here, is it?” “Not very.” “Well, you’ll soon be out. I heard the Doctor say he would let you out this evening. He told me not to tell you, and I said I wouldn’t. I meant, I wouldn’t till I’d see you.” I eat my dinner with a relish and, after he had gone, I worked away at my new window—merely for pastime. I did not make it much larger that afternoon, but I trimmed it up around the edges, and got it into some shape, thinking it might do to put a pane of glass into, some day.