"Leroy, if we can manage to get a kettle of that stew, I'll be for trying to get away to-night," he whispered. "And how are ye going to get it, lad?" asked the sailor. "Wait and you will see," was the answer, and Larry arose and sauntered over toward the fire. "I spilt some of the stew on the ground," he said, which was true, although the amount had not been large. "Can I have more?" "Yes, take what you will," returned the insurgent chief, who felt in good humor, through having obtained a leave of absence, to start on the morning following. "And give some to your friends. We'll fill up for once." "Thank you," answered Larry, and hurried to the other prisoners with the big pot from over the fire. The prisoners had a large tin kettle for water, fitted with a cover so that bugs might be kept out, and this he filled to the brim, and also gave the others all they wished. "Going to eat all of that?" queried one of the men, with a short laugh. "Sometime--not now," answered Larry. Then he took the pot back to the fire and carried his bowl and the kettle into the cave. At once Leroy followed him. "And now, what's this nonsense you're talkin' about running away?" demanded the _Yorktown_ sailor, as soon as they were alone. "I'm going to try my luck to-night, Leroy. If you don't want to go, you can stay with the others." "But how are you going? There's a guard around the foot of the hill, and they will shoot you on sight." "I'm not going to try the foot of the hill--at least, not this side of it." "Well, you can't get to the other, for that cliff over this cave is in the way." "I'm going to explore the caves back of this. They must lead to somewhere." The old sailor shook his head. "More'n likely they lead to the bowels of the earth. You'll fall into some pitfall, and that will be the end of you." "I'll light a torch as soon as I am out of sight of this place, and I'll be very careful where I step." "This cave may be as big as the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky. You'll get lost in one of the chambers and never find your way out." "I'll have to risk that. But I'm bound to try it--if they give me the chance." "You're foolish. Why, confound it, I've half of a mind to report the scheme." "Oh, Leroy, surely you won't do that." "I mean just to save you from yourself, Larry." "I don't intend to remain a prisoner until I am baldheaded, Leroy. I'm going to try to escape--and that's the end of it." "Will you take any of the others along?" "If they want to go." "There won't a soul go--and I know it," responded the stout sailor, in positive tones. When the other prisoners came in, he told them of Larry's plan. One and all of them agreed it was foolhardy. "I don't believe there is any opening," said one. "Or if there is, it's so high up in the mountains that you'll never reach it." "And what are you going to do for eating? That kettle of stew won't last forever," said another.