They never saw the light of day except for a ten-minutes' exercise in the prison-yard every morning; and, on comparing notes afterwards, they found that they had been subjected to the same treatment undergone by the unfortunate men who had turned King's evidence and who had been the cause of their undoing. To some of them the death sentence was read at night, with a promise of pardon if they betrayed the names of their fellow-conspirators in town, and sometimes they were visited in their cells by officers who informed them that one or other of their fellow-prisoners had "given away the show." "You may safely speak out now, for we know everything. So-and-so has turned King's evidence." But these brave men saw through the ruse, and steadfastly refused to sell their honour for their lives. With one accord they answered, "So-and-so may have given you information, but _I_ know nothing." They were subjected to severe treatment, half-starved, threatened, told that they were condemned to death, and then severely left alone with the sword hanging over their heads--to no avail. Not a word of information was wrung from them, no murmur of complaint crossed their lips. This lasted sixteen days, and during that time they suffered intensely, the food being unfit for consumption and their surroundings filthy beyond words. As I have said before, there were among their number men physically unfit for hardships like these. Mr. Willem Botha was one of them, and as the days dragged on, the headaches with which he was afflicted became more frequent and increased in violence. He feared that he would lose his reason and, in losing it, betray all to his jailers, and he was consumed with anxiety for his wife. After the first shock of his arrest, he was suddenly overwhelmed with the recollection that he had forgotten to destroy the slip of paper on which the message concerning the Boer traitor in the Free State had been conveyed to him through a prisoner in the Rest Camp. He tried to remember what he had done with it, but in vain. Each day found him torn with anxiety, searching his memory for the threads of recollection, broken in the stress of the last stirring events before his arrest. Suddenly one day it flashed across his mind that he had pushed the slip of paper between the tattered leaves of an old hymn-book. Bitterly he reproached himself with his unpardonable negligence. That slip of paper, containing injunctions to the Committee to convey information of such a serious character to the Boer leaders, would be sufficient proof against him and his fellows. No other evidence would be required to bring them to their death, if it had fallen into the hands of the enemy. The unfortunate man, in his prison cell, prayed for deliverance, not only for himself, but for the trusty comrades who would be exposed to such deadly peril by this, his one act of indiscretion. The weary days dragged on.