CHAPTER X. THE ESCAPE.

The discipline in the prison at Elmira was not rigorous. The prisoners

had to clean up the cells, halls, and yard, but the rest of their time

they could spend as they liked. Some of those whose friends had money

were able to live in comparative luxury, and to assist those who had no

such resources; for throughout the war there was never any great

difficulty in passing letters to and from the South. The line of

frontier was enormous, and it was only at certain points that

hostilities, were actively carried on; consequently letters and

newspapers were freely passed, and money could be sent in the same way

from one part of the country to another.

At certain hours of the day hawkers and vendors of such articles as were

in most demand by the prisoners were allowed to enter the yard and to

sell their wares to the Confederates. Spirits were not allowed to be

carried in, but tobacco and all kinds of food were permitted to pass.

Vincent had at Alexandria written a letter to his mother, and had given

it to a man who represented that he made it his business to forward

letters to an agent at Richmond, being paid for each letter the sum of a

dollar on its delivery. Vincent therefore felt confident that the

anxiety that would be felt at home when they learned that he was among

the missing at the battle of Antietam would be relieved.

He was fairly supplied with money. He had, indeed, had several hundred

dollars with him at the time he was captured; but these were entirely in

Confederate notes, for which he got but half their value in Northern

paper at Alexandria. He himself found the rations supplied in the prison

ample, and was able to aid any of his fellow-prisoners in purchasing

clothes to replace the rags they wore when captured.

One day Vincent strolled down as usual toward the gate, where, under the

eye of the guard, a row of men and women, principally negroes and

negresses, were sitting on the ground with their baskets in front of

them containing tobacco, pipes, fruit, cakes, needles and thread,

buttons, and a variety of other articles in demand, while a number of

prisoners were bargaining and joking with them. Presently his eye fell

upon a negro before whom was a great pile of watermelons. He started as

he did so, for he at once recognized the well-known face of Dan. As soon

as the negro saw that his master's eye had fallen upon him he began

loudly praising the quality of his fruit.

"Here, massa officer, here berry fine melyons, ripe and sweet; no green

trash; dis un good right through. Five cents each, sah. Berry cheap

dese."

"I expect they cost you nothing, Sambo," one of the Confederate soldiers

said as he bought a melon. "Got a neighbor's patch handy, eh?"

Dan grinned at the joke, and then selecting another from the bottom of

his pile in the basket, offered it to Vincent.

"Dis fine fruit, sah. Me sure you please with him!"

Vincent took the melon and handed Dan five cents. A momentary glance was

exchanged, and then he walked away and sat down in a quiet corner of the

yard and cut open the melon. As he expected, he found a note rolled up

in the center. A small piece of the rind had been cut out and the pulp

removed for its reception. The bit of rind had then been carefully

replaced so that the cut would not be noticed without close inspection.

It was from one of his fellow-officers, and was dated the day after his

capture. He read as follows:

"My Dear Wingfield.-We are all delighted this afternoon to hear that

instead, as we had believed, of your being knocked on the head you are a

prisoner among the Yanks. Several of us noticed you fall just as we

halted at the river, and we all thought that from the way in which you

fell you had been shot through the head or heart. However, there was no

time to inquire in that terrific storm of shot and shell. In the morning

when the burying parties went down we could find no signs of you,

although we knew almost to a foot where you had fallen.

"We could only conclude at last that you had been carried off in the

night by the Yanks, and as they would hardly take the trouble of

carrying off a dead body, it occurred to us that you might after all be

alive. So the colonel went to Lee, who at once sent a trumpeter with a

flag down to the river to inquire, and we were all mightily pleased, as

you may imagine, when he came back with the news that you were not only

a prisoner, but unwounded, having been only stunned in some way. From

the way you fell we suppose a round shot must have grazed your head; at

least that is the only way we can account for it.

"Your horse came back unhurt to the troop, and will be well cared for

until you rejoin us, which we hope will not be long. Your boy kept the

camp awake last night with his howlings, and is at present almost out of

his mind with delight. He tells me he has made up his mind to slip

across the lines and make his way as a runaway to Alexandria, where you

will, of course, be taken in the first place. He says he's got some

money of yours; but I have insisted on his taking another fifty dollars,

which you can repay me when we next meet. As he will not have to ask for

work, he may escape the usual lot of runaways, who are generally pounced

upon and set to work on the fortifications of Alexandria and Washington.

"He intends to find out what prison you are taken to, and to follow you,

with some vague idea of being able to aid you to escape. As he cannot

write, he has asked me to write this letter to you, telling you what his

idea is. He will give it to you when he finds an opportunity, and he

wishes you to give him an answer, making any suggestion that may occur

to you as to the best way of his setting about it. He says that he shall

make acquaintances among the negroes North, and will find some one who

will read your note to him and write you an answer. I have told him that

if he is caught at the game he is likely to be inside a prison a bit

longer than you are, even if worse doesn't befall him. However, he makes

light of this, and is bent upon carrying out his plans, and I can only

hope he will succeed.

"I have just heard that we shall fall back across the Rappahannock

to-morrow, and I imagine there will not be much hard fighting again

until spring, long before which I hope you will be in your place among

us again. We lost twenty-three men and two officers (Ketler and Sumner)

yesterday. Good-by, old fellow! I need not say keep up your spirits, for

that you are pretty sure to do.

"Yours truly,

"James Sinclair."

After the first start at seeing Dan, Vincent was scarcely surprised, for

he had often thought over what the boy would do, and had fancied that

while, if he supposed him dead, he would go straight back to the

Orangery, it was quite possible that, should he hear that he was a

prisoner, Dan might take it into his head to endeavor to join him. As to

his making his escape, that did not appear to be a very difficult

undertaking now that he had a friend outside. The watch kept up was not

a very vigilant one, for such numbers of prisoners were taken on both

sides that they were not regarded as of very great importance, and,

indeed, the difficulty lay rather in making across the country to the

Southern border than in escaping from prison; for with a friend outside,

with a disguise in readiness, that matter was comparatively easy. All

that was required for the adventure was a long rope, a sharp file, and a

dark night.

The chief difficulty that occurred to Vincent arose from the fact that

there were some twenty other prisoners in the same ward. He could hardly

file through the bars of the window unnoticed by them, and they would

naturally wish to share in his flight; but where one person might

succeed in evading the vigilance of the guard, it was unlikely in the

extreme that twenty would do so, and the alarm once given all would be

recaptured. He was spared the trouble of making up his mind as to his

plans, for by the time he had finished his letter the hour that the

hucksters were allowed to sell their goods was passed, and the gates

were shut and all was quiet.

After some thought he came to the conclusion that the only plan would be

to conceal himself somewhere in the prison just before the hour at which

they were locked up in their wards. The alarm would be given, for the

list of names was called over before lock-up, and a search would of

course be made. Still, if he could find a good place for concealment, it

might succeed, since the search after dark would not be so close and

minute as that which would be made next morning. The only disadvantage

would be that the sentries would be especially on the alert, as, unless

the fugitive had succeeded in some way in passing out of the gates in

disguise, he must still be within the walls, and might attempt to scale

them through the night. This certainty largely increased the danger, and

Vincent went to bed that night without finally determining what had

better be done.

The next morning while walking in the grounds he quite determined as to

the place he would choose for his concealment if he adopted the plan he

had thought of the evening before. The lower rooms upon one side of the

building were inhabited by the governor and officers of the prison, and

if he were to spring through an open window unnoticed just as it became

dusk, and hide himself in a cupboard or under a bed there he would be

safe for a time, as, however close the search might be in other parts of

the building, it would be scarcely suspected, at any rate on the first

alarm, that he had concealed himself in the officers' quarters. There

would, of course, be the chance of his being detected as he got out of

the window again at night, but this would not be a great risk. It was

the vigilance of the sentries that he most feared, and the possibility

that, as soon as the fact of his being missing was known, a cordon of

guards might be stationed outside the wall in addition to those in the

yard. The danger appeared to him to be so great that he was half

inclined to abandon the enterprise. It would certainly be weary work to

be shut up there for perhaps a year while his friends were fighting the

battles of his country; but it would be better after all to put up with

that than to run any extreme risk of being shot.

When he had arrived at this conclusion he went upstairs to his room to

write a line to Dan. The day was a fine one, and he found that the whole

of the occupants of the room had gone below. This was an unexpected bit

of good fortune, and he at once went to the window and examined the

bars. They were thick and of new iron, but had been hastily put up. The

building had originally been a large warehouse, and when it had been

converted into a prison for the Confederate prisoners the bars had been

added to the windows. Instead, therefore, of being built into solid

stone and fastened in by lead, they were merely screwed on to the wooden

framework of the windows, and by a strong turn-screw a bar could be

removed in five minutes. This altogether altered the position. He had

only to wait until the rest of the occupants of the room were asleep and

then to remove the bar and let himself down.

He at once wrote:

"I want twenty yards of strong string, and the same length of rope that

will bear my weight; also a strong turn-screw. When I have got this I

will let you know night and hour. Shall want disguise ready to put on."

He folded the note up into a small compass, and at the hour at which Dan

would be about to enter he sauntered down to the gate. In a short time

the vendors entered, and were soon busy selling their wares. Dan had, as

before, a basket of melons. Vincent made his way up to him.

"I want another melon," he said, "as good as that you me last night."

"Dey all de same, sah. First-rate melyons dose; just melt away in your

mouf like honey."

He held up one of the melons, and Vincent placed in his hands the

coppers in payment. Between two of them he had placed the little note.

Dan's hands closed quickly on the coins, and dropping them into his

pocket he addressed the next customer, while Vincent sauntered away

again. This time the melon was a whole one, and Vincent divided it with

a couple of other prisoners for the fruit was too large for one person

to consume, being quite as large as a man's head.

The next day another melon was bought, but this time Vincent did not

open it in public. Examining it closely, he perceived that it had been

cut through the middle, and no doubt contained a portion of the rope. He

hesitated as to his next step. If he took the melon up to his room he

would be sure to find some men there, and would be naturally called upon

to divide the fruit; and yet there was nowhere else he could hide it.

For a long time he sat with his back to the wall and the melon beside

him, abusing himself for his folly in not having told Dan to send the

rope in small lengths that he could hide about him. The place where he

had sat down was one of the quietest in the yard, but men were

constantly strolling up and down. He determined at last that the only

possible plan was in the first place to throw his coat over his melon,

to tuck it up underneath it, then to get hold of one end of the ball of

rope that it doubtless contained and to endeavor to wind it round his

body without being observed. It was a risky business, and he would

gladly have tossed the melon over the wall had he dared to do so; for if

he were detected, not only would he be punished with much more severe

imprisonment, but Dan might be arrested and punished most severely.

Unfortunately the weather was by no means hot, and it would look strange

to take off his coat, besides, if he did so, how could he coil the rope

round him without being observed? So that idea was abandoned. He got up

and walked to an angle in the wall, and there sat down again, concealing

the melon as well as he could between him and the wall when any one

happened to come near him. He pulled the halves apart and found, as he

had suspected, it was but a shell, the whole of the fruit having been

scooped out. But he gave an exclamation of pleasure on seeing that

instead, as he feared, of a large ball of rope being inside, the

interior was filled with neatly-made hanks, each containing several

yards of thin but strong rope, together with a hank of strong string.

Unbuttoning his coat, he thrust them in; then he took the melon rind and

broke it into very small pieces and threw them about. He then went up to

his room and thrust the hanks, unobserved, one by one among the straw

which, covered by an army blanket, constituted his bed. To-morrow, no

doubt, Dan would supply him somehow with a turn-screw. On going down to

the gate next day he found that the negro had changed his commodity, and

that this time his basket contained very large and fine cucumbers. These

were selling briskly, and Vincent saw that Dan was looking round

anxiously, and that an expression of relief came over his face as he

perceived him. He had, indeed, but eight or ten cucumbers left.

"Cucumbers to-day, sah? Berry fine cucumbers--first-rate cucumbers

dese."

"They look rather over-ripe," Vincent said.

"Not a bit, sah; dey just ripe. Dis berry fine one--ten cents dis."

"You are putting up your prices, darkey, and are making a fortune out of

us," Vincent said as he took the cucumber, which was a very large and

straight one. He had no difficulty with this, as with the melon; a sharp

twist broke it in two as he reached the corner he had used the day

previously. It had been cut in half, one end had been scooped out for

the reception of the handle of the turn-screw, and the metal been driven

in to the head in the other half. Hiding it under his jacket, he felt

that he was now prepared for escape.

He now asked himself whether he should go alone or take one or more of

his comrades into his confidence, and finally determined to give a young

Virginian officer named Geary, with whom he had been specially friendly

during his imprisonment, and Jackson, a chance of escape. He did not

like the latter, but he thought that after the reconciliation that had

taken place between them it was only right to take him rather than a

stranger. Drawing them aside, then, he told them that he had arranged a

mode of escape; it was impossible that all could avail themselves of it,

but that they were welcome to accompany him. They thanked him heartily

for the offer, and, when he explained the manner in which he intended to

make off, agreed to try their fortune with him.

"I propose," he said, "as soon as we are fairly beyond the prison, we

separate, and each try to gain the frontier as best he can. The fact

that three prisoners have escaped will soon be known all over the

country, and there would be no chance whatever for us if we kept

together. I will tell my boy to have three disguises ready; and when we

once put aside our uniforms I see no reason why, traveling separately,

suspicion should fall upon us; we ought to have no difficulty until at

any rate we arrive near the border, and there must be plenty of points

where we can cross without going anywhere near the Federal camps." The

others at once agreed that the chances of making their way separately

were much greater than if together. This being arranged, Vincent passed

a note next day to Dan, telling him to have three disguises in

readiness, and to be at the foot of the western wall, halfway along, at

twelve o'clock on the first wet night. A string would be thrown over,

with a knife fastened to it. He was to pull on the string till the rope

came into his hand, and to hold that tight until they were over. Vincent

chose this spot because it was equally removed from the sentry-boxes at

the corners of the yard, and because there was a stone seat in the yard

to which one end of the rope could be attached.

That night was fine, but the next was thick and misty. At nine o'clock

all were in bed, and he lay listening to the clocks in the distance. Ten

struck, and eleven, and when he thought it was approaching twelve he got

up and crept to the window. He was joined immediately by the others; the

turn-screw was set to work; and, as he expected, Vincent found no

trouble whatever with the screws, which were not yet rusted in the wood,

and turned immediately when the powerful screw-driver was applied to

them. When all were out the bar was carefully lifted from its place and

laid upon the floor.

The rope was then put round one of the other bars and drawn through it

until the two ends came together. These were then dropped to the ground

below. Geary went first, Jackson followed, and Vincent was soon standing

beside them. Taking one end of the rope, he pulled it until the other

passed round the bar and fell at their feet. All three were barefooted,

and they stole noiselessly across the yard to the seat, which was nearly

opposite their window. Vincent had already fastened his clasp-knife to

the end of the string, and he now threw it over the wall, which was

about twenty feet high.

He had tied a knot at forty feet from the end, and, standing close to

the wall, he drew in the string until the knot was in his hand. Another

two yards, and he knew that the knife was hanging a yard from the ground

against the wall. He now drew it up and down, hoping that the slight

noise the knife made against the wall might aid Dan in finding it. In

two or three minutes he felt a jerk, and knew that Dan had got it. He

fastened the end of the string to the rope and waited. The rope was

gradually drawn up; when it neared the end he fastened it to the stone

seat.

"Now," he said, "up you go, Geary."

The order in which they were to ascend had been settled by lot, as Geary

insisted that Vincent, who had contrived the whole affair, should be the

first to escape; but Vincent declined to accept the advantage, and the

three had accordingly tossed up for precedence.

Geary was quickly over, and lowered himself on the opposite side. The

others followed safely, but not without a good deal of scraping against

the wall, for the smallness of the rope added to the difficulty of

climbing it. However, the noise was so slight that they had little fear

of attracting attention, especially as the sentries would be standing in

their boxes, for the rain was now coming down pretty briskly. As soon as

they were down Vincent seized Dan by the hand.

"My brave lad," he said, "I owe you my freedom, and I sha'n't forget it.

Now, where are the clothes?"

"Here day are, sah. One is a rough suit, like a workingman's; another is

a black-and-white sort of suit--a check-suit; de oder one is for you--a

clargy's suit, sir. You make very nice young minister, for sure."

"All right, Dan!" Vincent said laughing; "give me the minister's suit."

"Then I will be the countryman," Geary said.

There was a little suppressed laughter as they changed their clothes in

the dark; and then, leaving their uniforms by the wall, they shook hands

and started at once in different directions, lest they might come across

some one who would, when the escape was known, remember four men having

passed him in the dark.

"Now, Dan, what is the next move?" Vincent asked as they walked off.

"Have you fixed upon any plan?"

"No special plan, sah, but I have brought a bag; you see I have him in

my hand."

"I suppose that's what you carried the clothes in?"

"No, sir; I carried dem in a bundle. Dis bag has got linen, and boots,

and oder tings for you, sah. What I tink am de best way is dis. Dar am a

train pass trou here at two o'clock and stop at dis station. Some people

always get out. Dar is an hotel just opposite the station, and some of

de passengers most always go there. I thought the best way for you would

be to go outside the station. Just when the train come in we walk across

de road wid the others and go to hotel. You say you want bedroom for

yo'self, and that your sarvant can sleep in de hall. Den in de morning

you get up and breakfast, and go off by de fust train."

"But then they may send down to look at the passengers starting, and I

should be taken at once."

"De train go out at seven o'clock, sah. I don't expect dey find dat you

have got away before dat."

"No, Dan. We all turn out at seven, and I shall be missed then; but it

will be some little time before the alarm is given, and they find out

how we got away, and send out search-parties. If the train is anything

like punctual we shall be off long before they get to the station."

"Besides, sah, dar are not many people knows your face, and it not

likely de bery man dat know you come to the station. Lots of oder places

to search, and dey most sure to tink you go right away--not tink you

venture to stop in town till the morning."

"That is so, Dan; and I think your plan is a capital one."

Dan's suggestion was carried out, and at seven o'clock next morning they

were standing on the platform among a number of other parsons waiting

for the train. Just as the locomotive's whistle was heard the sound of a

cannon boomed out from the direction of the prison.

"That means some of the prisoners have escaped," one of the porters on

the platform said. "There have been five or six of them got away in the

last two months, but most of them have been caught again before they

have gone far. You see, to have a chance at all, they have got to get

rid of their uniforms, and as we are all Unionists about here that ain't

an easy job for 'em to manage."

Every one on the platform joined in the conversation, asking which way

the fugitive would be likely to go, whether there were any cavalry to

send after him, what would be done to him if he were captured, and other

questions of the same kind, Vincent joining in the talk. It was a relief

to him when the train drew up, and he and Dan took their place in it,

traveling, however, in different cars. Once fairly away, Vincent had no

fear whatever of being detected, and could travel where he liked, for

outside the prison there were not ten people who knew his face

throughout the Northern States. It would be difficult for him to make

his way down into Virginia from the North as the whole line of frontier

there was occupied by troops, and patrols were on the watch night and

day to prevent persons from going through the lines. He therefore

determined to go west to St. Louis, and from there work his way down

through Missouri. After two days' railway traveling they reached St.

Louis, a city having a large trade with the South, and containing many

sympathizers with the Confederate cause. Vincent, having now no fear of

detection, went at once to an hotel, and taking up the newspaper, one of

the first paragraphs that met his eye was headed:

"Escape of three Confederate officers from Elmira. Great excitement was

caused on Wednesday at Elmira by the discovery that three Confederate

officers had, during the night, effected their escape from prison. One

of the bars of the window of the ward on the first floor in which they

were, with fifteen other Confederate officers, confined, had been

removed; the screws having been taken out by a large screw-driver which

they left behind them. They had lowered themselves to the yard, and

climbed over the wall by means of a rope which was found in position in

the morning. The rest of the prisoners professed an entire ignorance of

the affair, and declare that until they found the beds unoccupied in the

morning they knew nothing of the occurrence.

"This is as it may be, but it is certain they must have been aided by

traitors outside the prison, for the rope hung loose on the outside of

the wall, and must have been held by some one there as they climbed it.

The inside end was fastened to a stone seat, and they were thus enabled

to slide down it on the other side. Their uniforms were found lying at

the foot of the wall, and their accomplice had doubtless disguises ready

for them. The authorities of the prison are unable to account for the

manner in which the turn-screw and rope were passed in to them, or how

they communicated with their friends outside."

Then followed the personal description of each of the fugitives, and a

request that all loyal citizens would be on the look-out for them, and

would at once arrest any suspicious character unable to give a

satisfactory account of himself. As Vincent sat smoking in the hall of

the hotel he heard several present discussing the escape of the

prisoners.

"It does not matter about them one way or the other," one of the

speakers said. "They seem to be mere lads, and whether they escape or

not will not make any difference to any one. The serious thing is that

there must be some traitors among the prison officials, and that next

time, perhaps two or three generals may escape, and that would be a

really serious misfortune."

"We need not reckon that out at present," another smoker said. "We

haven't got three of the rebel generals yet, and as far as things seem

to be going on, we may have to wait some time before we have. They are

pretty well able to take care of themselves, I reckon."

"They are good men, some of them, I don't deny," the first speaker said;

"but they might as well give up the game. In the spring we shall have an

army big enough to eat them up."

"So I have heard two or three times before. Scott was going to eat them

up, McClellan was going to eat them up, then Pope was going to make an

end of 'em altogether. Now McClellan is having a try again, but somehow

or other the eating up hasn't come off yet. It looks to me rather the

other way."

There was an angry growl from two or three of those sitting round, while

others uttered a cordial "That's so."

"It seems to me, by the way you put it, that you don't wish to see this

business come to an end."

"That's where you are wrong now. I do wish to see it come to an end. I

don't want to see tens of thousands of men losing their lives because

one portion of these States wants to ride roughshod over the other. The

sooner the North looks this affair squarely in the face and sees that it

has taken up a bigger job than it can carry through, and agrees to let

those who wish to leave it go if they like, the better for all parties.

That's what I think about it."

"I don't call that Union talk," the other said angrily.

"Union or not Union, I mean to talk it, and I want to know who is going

to prevent me?"

The two men rose simultaneously from their chairs, and in a second the

crack of two revolvers sounded. As if they had only been waiting for the

signal, a score of other men leaped up and sprang at each other. They

had, as the altercation grew hotter, joined in with exclamations of

anger or approval, and Vincent saw that although the Unionists were the

majority the party of sympathizers with the South was a strong one.

Having neither arms nor inclination to join in a broil of this kind he

made his escape into the street the instant hostilities began, and

hurried away from the sound of shouts, oaths, the sharp cracks of

pistols, and the breaking of glass. Ten minutes later he returned. The

hotel was shut up, but an angry mob were assembled round the door

shouting, "Down with the rebels! down with the Secessionists!" and were

keeping up a loud knocking at the door. Presently a window upstairs

opened, and the proprietor put out his head.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I can assure you that the persons who were the

cause of this disturbance all left the hotel by the back way as soon as

the affair was over. I have sent for the police commissioner, and upon

his arrival he will be free to search the house, and to arrest any one

concerned in this affair."

The crowd were not satisfied, and renewed their knocking at the door;

but two or three minutes later an officer, with a strong body of police,

arrived on the spot. In a few words he told the crowd to disperse,

promising that the parties concerned in the affair would be taken in and

duly deal with. He then entered the house with four of his men, leaving

the rest to wait. Vincent entered with the constables, saying that he

was staying at the house. The fumes of gunpowder were still floating

about the hall, three bodies were lying on the floor, and several men

were binding up their wounds. The police-officer inquired into the

origin of the broil, and all present concurred in saying that it arose

from some Secessionists speaking insultingly of the army of the Union.

Search was then made in the hotel, and it was found that eight persons

were missing. One of the killed was a well-known citizen of the town; he

was the speaker on the Union side of the argument. The other two were

strangers, and no one could say which side they espoused. All those

present declared that they themselves were Union men, and it was

supposed that the eight who were missing were the party who had taken

the other side of the question. The evidence of each was taken down by

the police-officer. Vincent was not questioned, as, having entered with

the constables, it was supposed he was not present at the affair.

In the morning Vincent read in the local paper a highly colored account

of the fray. After giving a large number of wholly fictitious details of

the fray, it went on to say: "The victims were Cyrus D. Jenkins, a

much-esteemed citizen and a prominent Unionist; the other two were

guests at the hotel; one had registered as P. J. Moore of Vermont, the

other James Harvey of Tennessee. Nothing is as yet known as to the

persons whose rooms were unoccupied, and who had doubtless made their

escape as soon as the affray was over; but the examination of their

effects, which will be made by the police in the morning, will doubtless

furnish a clew by which they will be brought to justice."

Having read this, Vincent looked for the news as to the escape from

Elmira, being anxious to know whether his companions had been as

fortunate as himself in getting clear away. He was startled by reading

the following paragraph: "We are enabled to state that the police have

received a letter stating that one of the officers who escaped from

Elmira prison has adopted the disguise of a minister, and is traveling

through the country with a black servant. At present the authorities are

not disposed to attach much credit to this letter, and are inclined to

believe that it has been sent in order to put them on a wrong scent.

However a watch will doubtless be kept by the police throughout the

country for a person answering to this description."

Accustomed to rise early, Vincent was taking his breakfast almost alone,

only two or three of the other guests having made their appearance. He

finished his meal hastily, and went out to Dan, who was lounging in

front of the hotel.

"Dan, go upstairs at once, pack the bag, bring it down and get out with

it immediately. I will pay the bill. Don't stop to ask questions now."

Vincent then walked up to the desk at the end of the hall, at which a

clerk was sitting reading the paper. Sincerely hoping that the man's eye

had not fallen on this paragraph, he asked if his account was made out.

As he had fortunately mentioned on the preceding evening that he should

be leaving in the morning, the bill was ready; and the clerk, scarce

looking up from the paper, handed it to him. Vincent paid him the

amount, saying carelessly, "I think I have plenty of time to catch the

train for the east?"

The clerk glanced at the clock.

"Yes, it goes at 8, and you have twenty minutes. It's only five minutes'

walk to the station."