The conversation then ceased, and as all the prisoners were supposed by this time to have gone to sleep, Sandoff and Shamarin stretched themselves on the hard platform beside their companions. For some time sounds of voices and the shuffling of feet came from the main portion of the prison, but finally, about nine o’clock in the evening, everything became quiet, save for the occasional tramp of a Cossack sentry in the corridor without the cell. This signified that the commander of the prison, his staff of officers, and in fact all residing in the settlement of Middle Kara—except the night guard of Cossacks—had retired to rest. The time for action had arrived. None of the inmates of the cell were sleeping. They rose noiselessly to their feet and gathered about Shamarin as he drew the package given him by Vera from his pocket. Outside, in the courtyard on which the cell faced, the sentries had built fires, and these sent a dull reflection through the grimy panes of a window high up in the wall. The packet proved to contain a long, sharp bladed knife and a short, flat iron wedge—tools well fitted for the proposed undertaking. How the brave girl had acquired them it was impossible to guess. Shamarin made a brief examination of the floor, which fortunately was old and rotten. Choosing a likely spot, he set to work with such energy and skill that in less than five minutes two planks had been pried loose, and a dark hole was revealed, through which came a damp and musty odor. All this was accomplished without a particle of noise. Meanwhile Sandoff had been doing up in a neat bundle the blankets and change of clothes belonging to himself and Shamarin. “Now is our time,” said the latter. “Come, Sandoff, delay may be fatal.” “Yes, you had better go at once,” added Butin. “It will be safer—though the chances are that your absence will not be discovered until morning. It is very seldom that the guard looks into our cell of a night.” “Yes, as far as that goes you are safe,” added Vraskoi. “The critical point is to get clear of the prison without detection.” “That will be easily managed,” said Shamarin. “The weather is in our favor. Come, let us start!” The parting with Butin and Vraskoi was a sad one. Good wishes were exchanged and hands were clasped in a friendly embrace. Then Shamarin lowered himself into the hole, followed by Sandoff, and the planks were forced into place over their heads. The first step had been safely accomplished, and the fugitives were now in a hollow place about three feet high and extending under the entire prison, for the building had been erected on piles above the ground. This space was full of dirt and filth that had been dropped in through holes in the floor, and was surrounded on all four sides by a wall of heavy logs roughly plastered together.