From this my mind passed to thinking upon consequences that might follow from my having been recognised by the man who had brought me to this place. If he knew me; if it were revealed that Duncan and my father had both been doing much, for many months past, towards securing information regarding the smuggling expeditions of many of the so-called 'patriot' merchants; if it were learned that my brother was in the King's service;--indeed, I felt that if any or all of these facts became known, the chances of my being set at liberty would be small. During my experience on the road I had heard, in connection with the case of Duncan Hale, much said of 'the committee.' I wondered what this was. Were there not courts of justice in the land? By what authority had any committee the right to pronounce sentence of death on any man? Was the country not still the King's, and was it not still under the King's laws? But in spite of the hotness of my indignation, the dripping of the water by my side, and the frightful dampness and cold of the place, with no covering over me, and with no pillow but my arm, I finally slept upon the hard door. When I awoke, I was surprised to find that, owing to a rain having set in, the entire floor of the place was flooded almost to the edge of my board bed, and that almost every part of the roof of my strange prison dripped cold, muddy water. Light enough crept in about the door to reveal to me the fact that I was in neither a dungeon nor cave, but in an old mine. In spite of the cold and dampness of the place, I felt refreshed by my sleep. I sat up, and almost at the same time I heard a sound as of the removal of the heavy timbers about the door. This was soon opened, and through it was pushed a large, dirty-looking wooden bowl, and the door closed the next moment. I heard the timbers being replaced, and then, as on the preceding night, the sound of the footsteps died away in the distance. Hunger mastered my feelings of resentment, and I drew the bowl toward me. Floating in a kind of slate-coloured liquid, which may have been intended for soup, I found two large balls or dumplings of offensive beef rolled in dark and mouldy flour; but with the appetite of a bear, I ate and drank almost the entire contents of the bowl. The day passed; then another and another. I had read many stories of captures and imprisonments, but in none of them could I find a parallel for my own unhappy situation. With unvarying regularity at morning and evening the same foul-smelling, unwashed bowl, filled with food that varied only in degrees of offensiveness, was handed in to me. The life and the food and the home of many beasts would have been a relief and a joy to me. And what was my crime? I was a mere boy. I had never spoken word nor lifted hand on either side. True, I had saved the life of a man from the hands of a mob; and was I to drag out my life in a dark, dripping, unhealthy cave for that?