Tim’s thoughts went back to a late afternoon shortly after the arrival of the officers captured in the second assault. Someone had started to sing “The Star-Spangled Banner,” others had joined the singer, and before a minute had passed the whole second floor had rocked with the song. The prisoners had pressed against the bars and shouted across the town. Suddenly, caught by the sun, a white handkerchief had fluttered from a window of the little white house across the street. Then the owner of the handkerchief had appeared, a happy-faced young woman who waved as if she could never grow tired. Senn and Bull Head and another guard had come up the stairs to spoil the fun. Senn didn’t want singing or shouting in his jail. But from that time on the young woman whose heart beat for the Union had been the sweetheart of every Yankee in the jail. Tim thought again of the coming day. Two haversacks and some other supplies were hidden in the Navy kitchen. Tim put his hand over his breast pocket to be sure that his pictures were there. They had come in a shining black book with the word ALBUM stamped in gold on its spine. The covers were sky blue inside, neatly patterned with white stars. The pages were made of heavy pasteboard covered with paper frames to hold the pictures. The frames were arched at the top and lined around with gold. Kate’s picture was there with the ones of Mother and Father and the twins. It was the only one that wasn’t stiff. It was posed, of course, but somehow Kate’s natural poise made it seem more alive. Her waist was slim and her figure had filled out where it should be full. She was more of a woman now. The photographer had put a touch too much pink on the cheeks, but her face was the same. Before the picture had come, her face had faded a little from Tim’s mind. Now he could see her clear as yesterday. She had cut out a little piece from the hem of the dress she wore in the picture and had pasted it on the blank page opposite her photograph. The material was golden brown--some kind of silk he supposed it was. The fire flickered low. Tim heard the men stirring behind him and felt a hand on his shoulder. “No sleep tomorrow night,” Red said quietly. “We better get sleep while we can.” Tim turned from the window. “We’ve rested for five months now. We don’t need sleep. We need a beefsteak dinner and a couple of greatcoats.” Dawson looked up from his book, quiet and inscrutable. “Do you really mean to try to escape?” By now their secret was known to everyone on the second floor. There had been the chance that someone would notice their absence from the mess. Then, too, they would need a little help along the way. Mill’s chess partner had left the room and Mills was studying the board. He turned to Dawson. “Sure they’re going,” he said. “Say, Dawson, do you play chess?”