Thus it went on, until, just as we heard number fifteen drop, we also heard a Rebel voice say in a vicious undertone: "Halt! halt, there, d--n you!" This was enough.

The game was up; we were discovered, and the remaining thirty-five of us left that locality with all the speed in our heels, getting away just in time to escape a volley which a squad of guards, posted in the lookouts, poured upon the spot where we had been standing.
The next morning the fifteen who had got over the Stockade were brought in, each chained to a sixty-four pound ball.

Their story was that one of the N'Yaarkers, who had become cognizant of our scheme, had sought to obtain favor in the Rebel eyes by betraying us.

The Rebels stationed a squad at the crossing place, and as each man dropped down from the Stockade he was caught by the shoulder, the muzzle of a revolver thrust into his face, and an order to surrender whispered into his ear.

It was expected that the guards in the sentry-boxes would do such execution among those of us still inside as would prove a warning to other would-be escapes.