The sentries stood along the fences and by the buildings. The guard was almost double now. The early morning shift was staying on duty in the yard. The prisoners who had witnessed the shooting mingled with the others. Now one of them, a man named Frazer, began to explain. “Remember Jones? Well, he’s dead. Shot by the boy who went out with Addison. We’re washing the waste pails in the creek, and the guards are joking with us, and I notice that Jones is working his way downstream to a place near a thick grove of trees, making a big job of rinsing his pails....” The tall Rebel private shouted from his place by the gate, “Break up that group. Spread out, or I’ll send you back inside.” Tim pretended to drift away but he and Red stayed close enough to Frazer so that they could hear how Jones had been killed. Frazer went on. “Suddenly Jones gets up and looks around, smiling at the guard in what he means to be a casual way, and points to a place in the creek. Then he says, ‘There’s a pretty stone.’ Well, the guards kind of notice, because Jones’s voice shakes and his face is pale. Suddenly Jones wheels and dashes among the trees toward the bridge that crosses the canal. Two of the guards are older men, but this young one dashes after Jones, quick as a rabbit, and drops him with one shot. Then he lets his rifle fall and runs and bends over Jones, quiet, while we all stand there like mutes. Then the boy starts to shake Jones and cry and carry on....” Frazer kept talking, but Tim and Red had heard enough and they started their walk around the yard. “Did you know Jones?” asked Tim. “Hardly at all. He was a quiet man. I wonder what was in his mind.” “There would be sentries on the bridge that crosses Columbia Canal. I can only think he must have gone mad.” “If he went that way he wasn’t heading north. He must have been thinking of Beaufort, if he was thinking at all.” Captain Senn came out of the jail. A soldier was with him, carrying a pasteboard box. Senn raised his voice. “Army prisoners come here.” The men gathered around. “You have heard by now,” Senn said, “that one of your number tried to escape. He was shot. He should have been shot. It will serve as a lesson to you not to be foolish when you leave the prison under guard. The soldier who shot this man said he wasn’t shooting to kill. I told him it is the duty of a prison guard to shoot an escaping man. I told him I would have shot the man myself. I would not hesitate to shoot one of you. Not at all.” He fingered the pistol that hung at his side and smiled his frostbitten smile. “And now there are better things to talk about. In this box we have some mail.” The soldier reached for the letters one at a time and called out names. There was a letter for Jones. Senn snatched the letter. Red’s name was called. Red took his letter and turned away. Tim heard his own name called.