But Walker was not a man to sit quietly in his cell, and submit to his fate. His mind having been settled in the conviction that certain death would follow, he began to form his plans of action. To arrive at any definite conclusion was no easy matter, as he was chained, and a double guard placed around his quarters. Yet he had hope—time was given and all might yet be right. He learned that he was not to be tried by a division court-martial, but would be removed to St. Louis, in order that a general court might act upon his case. He also learned that it would be at least a month, before the army would take up its march. Thus he had time—time precious to him—for, like all shrewd villains, he had his confederates, even in the army as well as out of it, and to these he now looked for his bodily safety. It was the third night of his incarceration, that, springing to his feet, he listened intently. There were three distinct taps on the door. “The rescuers—the gang—I’m saved!” he muttered, as he gave three taps on the door, in response. “What’s the word?” was asked from the outside. “C. S. A. and the Bars!” answered Walker. “And you?” “Good! Union against oppression!” “To-night?” asked Walker, with eagerness. “No, the pal on the other side ain’t for Union. Can’t before day after to-morrow. Jim goes on then, and though it ain’t my turn, I think I can get pony No. 2 drunk, and the job can be done. I’ll try.” “Be cautious. Trust no one without the word. It was the neglect on my part, thinking it all right, to demand the ‘words,’ which brought me into this scrape!” The “rounds” approached, and the sentinel was relieved. Nothing of importance transpired in camp for the next three days. An unusual quiet prevailed. It is true, there was much talk upon the subject of the attempted murder, and many expressions of bitterness against Walker. Some even went so far as to suggest the hanging of that wretch before the army left Springfield, lest he should escape. None were more vehement than a repulsive looking soldier, known throughout camp as “ugly Jim!” He stated that he had been on guard only a few nights before in front of the prisoner’s quarters, and that he had every reason to believe Walker was trying to escape, adding that he wished he had been satisfied of the fact, as he would have been glad of an opportunity to put a bullet through the murderous scoundrel. The party had been drinking freely, and had become exceedingly communicative. One of the soldiers, whose post was No. 1 on guard duty that night—that is, in front of the prisoner’s door—swore he would shoot Walker if he could find any pretext. “_You_ have no spite against him,” exclaimed ugly Jim, “and _I_ have. Let _me_ take the matter in hand. I will stand your guard, and if the villain attempts to move, I’ll riddle him, sure as Potosi lead mines.” “Enough said. I am on the second relief. I go on at seven and off at nine; again at twelve and off at two. This will be your time.”