But we were now confronted with a new difficulty.  It had been easy enough to dispose of the cement dust:  it was quite another thing to get rid of the vast quantity of small stones and pieces of brick which now had to be removed.  Further, if we cleared all the rubble from the middle of the wall between us and the outside, there would be no support for the slabs of the battlement above, and however firmly they were cemented, it was not improbable that they would sink in and betray us.

The latter predicament we could but ignore for the present.  For the disposal of the rubble, after some thought I hit upon a plan that proved entirely successful.

When all was quiet one night, Joe and I descended the ladder which led from our dormitory to the room below, and lifted, after some trouble, one of the planks of the floor.  As I had hoped, it was not laid immediately on the ground; a space of two feet deep had been left.  Into this hole night by night we cast the rubble we scooped out from the wall, carefully replacing the plank when we had done.  We moved always with bare feet, carrying the stuff in our pillow cases.  When I consider how many slight accidents might have marred our work and utterly undone us, I can not but think that we were in some sort watched over by Providence.  Our life aboard ship had made us sure footed; but that we were able to work for weeks without betraying ourselves by a sound or the neglect of some precaution I ascribe to something higher than ourselves.

To come to an end of this part of my story, after several weeks’ work at the rubble we once more encountered stone.  Before attacking this, we waited for a night or two.  We no longer had any fear of the slabs of the battlement falling; the cement was clearly strong enough to bear the weight of the passing sentry; but I had some apprehension that as he tramped along the man might discover the hollowness below him by the ringing of his feet on the stones.  But two nights sufficed to banish this fear also, and then we started eagerly on the last portion of our task.

The flight of time passes almost unnoticed when the moments are well filled.  Winter had given place to spring, and spring was now merging into summer.  We had no almanac, and kept no account of the days; it was by the lengthening daylight and shortening darkness and the new warmth in the air that we knew summer was at hand.  The long nights of winter would perhaps have been more favorable to our escape, but, on the other hand, we should suffer more from exposure, and moreover, I fancy no man is ever so brave in cold weather as in warm.  We prisoners, at any rate, worked now with more zest than ever, heartened by the knowledge that if we did win to freedom, we should find ourselves in a pleasant, sunny world.