Lance nodded his head in recognition of the kindness of the man's intention, then silently commenced his laborious and uncongenial task. When he returned to his cell at night worn out and exhausted by the unwonted toil, hardly recovered indeed from the pitiable weakness to which he had been reduced, he swore a bitter oath and then and there registered an unholy vow. From that hour he awaited but opportunity to wreak a full measure of vengeance upon his adversary. He felt his strength declining day by day. Daily did he endure the cheap taunt, the cruel mockery, the ingenious expedients, by which Bracker sought to intensify his misery. But a single chance he would yet give to him, if he had the manhood to accept it. One morning he addressed him with the usual salute. 'I wish to speak a few words to you, and before I do so I wish you to understand that I mean no--no--disrespect----' 'Speak and be d--d,' was Bracker's courteous rejoinder. 'It is only this. You have been what the people here would call "running me,"--that is, putting me to work above my strength, insulting me habitually as well. Why you should do so is best known to yourself. I can't stand it much longer. If you will leave off this line of conduct and treat me fairly, like any other prisoner, I will promise on my part to--to--behave well and reasonably. Don't decide in a hurry--it may cost both our lives.' Bracker laughed aloud. He stopped to look at Lance more than once, then he laughed as at too exquisite a joke. It was the mockery of a fiend exulting in the agonies of a demon-tortured soul. He misconceived the situation. He concluded that his captive's courage had failed him; that henceforth he would be able to treat him with the contemptuous cruelty with which he was wont to finish his persecutions. He triumphed in his foresight, and could not forbear showing a cowardly exultation. 'So you've dropped down to it at last, my flash horse-duffer, have you? You've shown the white feather that I always knew was in you--a rank cur from the beginning, with all your brag. By God! I'll make it hotter than ever for you, just for this very bit of impudence. D--n ye! Get back to your muck.' As he spoke the last words, ending with a foul expression, he had drawn near Lance, and raising his foot as if for a contemptuous kick, he placed his hands on his shoulders. The long corridor between the cells was for the moment without a second warder. With a panther-like bound Lance sprang forward, and in another moment his hands were at Bracker's throat, clutching with the grasp that death alone relaxes. 'Dog!' he ground out between his teeth. 'Your last hour is come. Die, wretch, and go to hell--die, if you had a hundred lives, scoundrel and villain that you are--die for your cruelty to a helpless wretch that never did you harm!'