While the sun was setting and the night coming on to take its place, I tried to decide how I would avenge myself upon Colonel Hetherill for his treatment of me. To me it seemed a somewhat complicated question, as he had certainly saved my life, though the saving of it gave him no right to the taking of it, and if I injured him I would be sure to injure his daughter, who undoubtedly had shown consideration for me. I gave it up, leaving the problem to its own solution, and continued to sit by the window, looking out at nothing. Thus importantly occupied, I heard the usual fumbling at the door which betokened a visitor. I was guessing whether it would be the colonel or Crothers, when I saw it was neither, but Grace Hetherill. She stopped to close the door very carefully, and when she turned to me she showed excitement. I had risen and was preparing to make the compliments custom demands from a young man to a young woman, when she exclaimed, in nervous tones,-- "Mr. West, you must escape from this house to-night!" "Escape, Miss Hetherill?" I said. "Where would I go? It is comfortable here, although my movements are somewhat restricted. But out there in those wild mountains I would starve to death." I spoke lightly, but my manner seemed to increase her apprehensions. She came closer and put her hand upon my arm. "Mr. West," she said, "you do not yet understand your situation and its dangers." "I see no occasion for alarm, Miss Hetherill," I said. "Your father has gratified his whim, and I shall not complain of the trouble he has caused me. It might be made a rough sort of jest for him if I carried the news to Washington; but I see no reason why I should do so." I felt her hand grip my arm in her excitement. "This is no play, no jest!" she cried. "Do you think that my father looks upon this fort, the weapons in it and the flag over it, as a mere whim? They are the most real of all things to him." I was impressed by her earnestness and strong feeling. I was about to say that if her father looked upon such things as realities I was sorry for him, but I remembered that I should not speak so bluntly to her father's daughter. "I tell you they are realities!" she exclaimed. "It is a reality that you are held a prisoner here, a condemned spy; and it is a reality that you are to be shot as such at nine o'clock in the morning." "What? Is this the truth?" I exclaimed. "Crothers and another man are digging your grave now," she said. "How do you know?" I asked, still partly incredulous. "I have seen them at work," she replied. I was more impressed than ever. I leave it to all if it is not a trifle hard upon a man's nerves to receive the news that other men are digging his grave for him. Moreover, her manner left no doubts. I was seized with a sudden shudder of the nerves and chill of the blood. I saw that this fanatical old colonel would carry out his farce to the end, and that end was my execution. "Do you believe me now?" she asked.