“We’d better stay by the gate in case the captain comes back that way. He wants a guard by the gate right through the night.” Their footsteps sounded again as they walked to the gate. Tim’s eyes were accustomed to the dark and he could see the shape of Red waiting patiently beside him. A slight yellow light behind the towels must be filtering in from the lamp by the jailhouse door. Red whispered, “There may not be a better time than this. Let’s go.” Tim stood up slowly, listening for a sound in the yard. He faced the window and put both hands on the bricks at the bottom of the opening. The frame had been so loose that Devil had taken it out and set it in the corner beside the stove. Red straightened up and stood beside Tim, ready to help him if he could. Tim drew his elbows in to his sides so that he could wiggle through the narrow space. He pulled himself off the floor, and as he did so a brick came away and went tumbling and crashing to the floor. Both men ducked. Tim could feel the thumping of his heart as he listened for the guards. One of them said, “What was that?” “There’s nobody in the yard but us. Must be outside.” “We better look around.” Footsteps sounded close and the woodshed door creaked. “Nothing here.” Lanternlight flashed in the door of the Navy kitchen. Tim could hear the hissing of the dying embers in the stove. A voice sounded loud. “No sign of anyone in here. Must have been outside.” The guards looked into the Army kitchen and went back to the wagon gate. Tim felt again and found that the wall was rotten all around the window. The mortar had dried and crumbled. One by one he loosened the bricks and handed them to Red, who set them in a pile on the floor. He hoped Devil could put them back, or at least conceal the work so that other prisoners could use this route at a later time. By the time Tim reached firm brick there was a gaping, ragged hole in the wall. Tim tried again, this time with a boost from Red. He scrambled up and perched in the opening. All he could see was the light of a lantern burning slits of yellow through the cracks in the boards of the shed wall. One of the guards said, “You wouldn’t try to cheat on me?” The other guard laughed. “Cheat you? Hell, Randy, you know I’m not a cheatin’ man.” Tim scrambled across and stepped blindly onto the pile of wood. There was a rumble as the pieces settled but his foot held firm. He waited again, listening.