It is necessary now to explain how the deserters came to be embarked in that funeral cortege and also how their project of escape had been planned and perfected. For this purpose we must go back some few days and change the scene to the dormitory of the fort of Kwala Kapoeas. The time is close upon midnight. Most of the men are wrapped in slumber and perfect silence prevails. No, not perfect silence; for in one remote corner there is a sound of suppressed conversation which challenges the notice of the officer on duty. “Silence in that corner! What can you have to talk about so late at night! Is not the day long enough for gossip?” This sharp rebuke was the signal for the talkers to cease, but not for long. Presently when silence reigned again, interrupted only by the loud snoring of the sleepers, a soft whispering made itself heard in that same dark corner to which the corporal had before referred. It was Schlickeisen and Wienersdorf continuing their interrupted conversation beneath their breath. “I repeat,” observed the former, “I cannot endure this life any longer!” “Hush!” whispered his companion. “Don’t get so excited. We can’t hurry, so be patient.” “That is all you can say. Patience! We have been here two months already and how far are we advanced?” “How can we help it? One cannot break iron with his hands. You know that our enterprise is one in which we risk our necks.” “Quite so. Still if this should last much longer, I intend to take a leap into the river.” “That would be a treat for the crocodiles; but all the same it would be a poor way of gaining your liberty, unless you look upon death as your only possible liberator.” “Well I would rather be dead than remain a prisoner like this.” “But ‘dead is dead.’ I must own that I prefer——” Schlickeisen had no time to finish the sentence. Some one had crept unperceived between their beds. Two hands were pressed upon their shoulders as if to compel them to remain passive. Then a voice whispered in the softest accents: “Don’t talk so loud; you fail to notice that Corporal Dunkelhof has been listening this last quarter of an hour. If he has overheard any of your talk, you may expect to be reported to-morrow morning.” “For my part,” muttered Wienersdorf, “he may hear all we have said.” “You may tell that to your sister, but not to me,” said the visitor, still whispering. “If the Colonel should only hear a tenth part of what you have been saying, you may be sure that you two would be under arrest before sunrise. Our Colonel is not to be trifled with.” “Oho! not quite so fast, please. Who are you? A listener can never be trusted,” said Schlickeisen in a menacing though subdued voice. “Don’t fear. I won’t betray you. It matters little who I am. But look how the corporal is pricking up his ears.” And indeed there came an imperative voice, “Silence there in that corner. I shan’t speak any more. Those who won’t hear must feel.”