Discontent attended him there.
The wayward man fretted out a few long years of his yet unbroken manhood, looking off at the earliest dawn and in evening's latest twilight, towards that distant world that had only just eluded his grasp.

His heart corroded.

Death came, not unlooked for, though it came even then unwelcome.

He was stretched on his bed within the fort which constituted his prison.

A few fast and faithful friends stood around, with the guards who rejoiced that the hour of relief from long and wearisome watching was at hand.