After what seemed a long time to me, he heard me; but even then it was some time before he appeared to grasp the idea that someone was trying to attract his attention. When he did he moved closer and tried to peer through one of the cracks; but as it was dark outside he could see nothing. “Are you a Yank?” I asked. “If you are, I am a friend.” “I am a Yank,” he replied. “Did you expect to find a Kalkar working in the mines?” “Do you know a prisoner called Julian 8th?” I inquired. He seemed to be thinking for a moment and then he said: “I seem to have heard the name. What do you want of him?” “I want to speak to him—I am his son.” “Wait!” he whispered. “I think that I heard a man speak that name today. I will find out—he is near by.” I waited for perhaps ten minutes when I heard someone approaching from the inside and presently a voice asked if I was still there. “Yes,” I said; “is that you, Father?” for I thought that the tones were his. “Julian, my son!” came to me almost as a sob. “What are you doing here?” Briefly I told him and then of my plan. “Have the convicts the courage to attempt it?” I asked in conclusion. “I do not know,” he said, and I could not but note the tone of utter hopelessness in his voice. “They would wish to; but here our spirits and our bodies both are broken. I do not know how many would have the courage to attempt it. Wait and I will talk with some of them—all are loyal; but just weak from overwork, starvation and abuse.” I waited for the better part of an hour before he returned. “Some will help,” he said, “from the first, and others if we are successful. Do you think it worth the risk—they will kill you if you fail—they will kill us all.” “And what is death to that which you are suffering?” I asked. “I know,” he said; “but the worm impaled upon the hook still struggles and hopes for life. Turn back, my son, we can do nothing against them.” “I shall not turn back,” I whispered. “I shall not turn back.” “I will help you; but I cannot speak for the others.” We had spoken only when the sentry had been at a distance, falling into silence each time he approached the point where we stood. In the intervals of silence I could hear the growing restlessness of the prisoners and I guessed that what I had said to the first man was being passed around from mouth to mouth within until already the whole adjacent shed was seething with something akin to excitement. I wondered if it would arouse their spirit sufficiently to carry them through the next ten minutes. If it did, success was assured. Father had told me all that I wanted to know—the location of the guard house and the barracks and the number of Kash Guard posted here—only fifty men to guard five thousand! How much more eloquently than words did this fact bespeak the humiliation of the American people and the utter contempt in which our scurvy masters held us—fifty men to guard five thousand!