"No--from friends in this country. To be frank, I have now a personal stake in life that I lacked until recently. We cannot live to the State only. We must also live to ourselves." "Do those interests of self and State clash then?" "As to that, my lad--why, mind your own business," replied Stark. His tone was amiable, but Burnham knew the subject could not be reopened. Presently others joined them and conversation turned to the subterranean works. A shaft, whose adit was carefully concealed, now sank upon the tunnel under Prison No. 6. The mouth was narrow, but within it space had been dug for four men to work abreast. A grand difficulty was the disposal of the excavated earth; and ingenious methods had been taken to get rid of it. A stream, which ran through each prison yard at the rate of four miles an hour, carried away many tons of fine dirt, while much was mixed with lime, plastered over the prison walls and then whitewashed. A large cavity discovered under Prison No. 5 proved also of great service, and many tons of surplus soil had been cast into it. Now, as their passage crept yard by yard nearer to the outer walls, the workers suffered for want of air; but means to eject the azotic gas were devised; a system of lighted lamps answered this purpose; and to Lovey Lee fell the task of smuggling large quantities of oil into the War Prison. The leaders spoke with hope and enthusiasm. A week or less would see the completion of the tunnel, and already plans were being developed for the great exodus. Burnham, fresh from his conversation with Stark, found David Leverett at his elbow; whereupon he discussed his recent rebuff with the sailor. "Stark was wont to be open as daylight. But now there's a bitterness about the man, and his mind wanders. To-day he confessed to other interests than our common interests. And at such a critical time!" "You can't trust any human in this world," said Leverett. "I tell you there's not a doodle inside these walls--narry a Yankee or Britisher--who hevn't got his figure. Man's built so; so's God. You can't even get into Heaven for nought. 'Tis a question of price. Only Hell lets you in free." "You don't mean----?" "I don't mean nothing. 'Tis dangerous ter mean anything in this place, when you've always got unseen eyes watching you, like a hawk watches a sparrow. But let the highest amongst us be watched as well as the lowest--that's all. No treason in that. I hevn't got any ill-will against Cecil Stark, though I know you was always jealous of him. He's a good boss, and I trust him as much as I trust anybody else. But liberty's sweeter than love of man or country; and money with liberty would tempt the angels I reckon, if they found themselves in this place. Money and liberty's all the world can give a man." "What's money to him? He's made of money." "So much the more might he want ter be free ter spend it. He's not the sort to stop home nights anyhow."