“‘Oh, yes, boss, you’s forgot it; you’s bin mighty sick dis time; but tudder time you broke de jail and ’scaped. Dis time you bin so sick--you cryin’ all de time--you talk heep of foolishness--you keep sayin’ Lottie! Lottie! sweet Lottie! all de time when you was sick. You crazy! De doctor sez you gwine to die, den dey won’t hab de fun of hangin’ you.’ “‘What are they going to hang me for?’ “‘Oh, yo knows what for; what yo ax dis chap for, when yo knows all about it? Didn’t yo kill mas’ Jack Clanton for nuffin’? But yo is gwine to die shoah, den ob course dey won’t hang you.’ “‘Do they think I am the man who killed Mr. Clanton?’ “‘Of course dey knows it sho’ nuff--dey seed yo do it.’ “‘But I tell you I never saw Mr. Clanton in my life, and I never saw the jail until I was brought here three weeks ago.’ “‘Oh, boss, yo is crazy yit. Don’t dis chap know ye? Didn’t dis nigger tend yo all de time? Didn’t yo try to bribe dis nigger to fetch de file? I ’spect when ye gits better you’ll ‘member all ’bout it.’ “Then he went away whistling ‘Dixie,’ doubtless believing me still out of my senses, and to tell the truth, I was inclined to that opinion myself. It seemed to me to be absolutely certain that I had either gone raving mad myself, or that I had fallen into the hands of a gang of maniacs; but the most plausible argument was in favor of the idea that my mind was wandering. My disease had run its course, and I was free from physical sufferings, except excessive weakness and a general prostration. All the hair had been shaved from my head, and my temples had been scarified all over. The room or dungeon in which I was confined was quite small--not over ten feet square. All the light and air came through a small, square, grated window, about twelve inches wide. However, during the day-time the wooden shutter of the door was left open, which served to aid in ventilating the room; but at night it was closed. Heavy iron bars crossed each other thickly in the door; and a small space was open near the floor through which the little negro usually passed the dishes that contained my food. A short while after the negro boy had left me, a man came and unlocked the door and entered the dungeon, carefully closing it when he had got inside. “‘Well, old fellow,’ said the visitor, as he took a seat near me and felt my pulse, ‘how do you come on this morning?’ “‘Better, I think,’ was my reply, ‘though I hardly know the nature of my disease. One thing is plain--I am quite feeble--my strength is all gone.’