nothing was transpiring in our minds, like an attempt to escape. It
will be no use keeping away from them, as it is likely to excite
suspicion."

The two friends left the tent and proceeded to where a group of
prisoners were seated. Their appearance was greeted with cheers, as
Harry was a universal favorite among both officers and men, on account
of his lively and genial temper, combined with a fine voice for
music--an accomplishment that with soldiers endears, and makes a
favorite of any person possessing it. He was soon called upon for a
song, and in accordance with the request commenced a song, and soon
the rich and clear voice of the young man rang out on the air of the
soft twilight. He sang of home, and as each word fell with
distinctness on the ears of the soldiers, who grouped around him, each
heart throbbed with emotion, and each mind wandered back to the
distant land, where, in the mansion, or in the little cottage, loved
ones there dwelt, pining for those who were now prisoners in a foreign
country.

The hour of nine having arrived, the soldiers dispersed to their
respective quarters, and soon after the command "lights out" was
uttered in stentorian notes. Long and anxiously the two friends
remained lying on their bunks in the tent, awaiting the hour of
twelve. Each moment seemed an hour to Alfred Wentworth, whose mind was
wrought up to a pitch of excitement, almost unendurable. Several times
he rose from his bed and paced the tent. At last the long wished for
hour arrived. Harry who had been smoking all the night, looked at his
watch by the faint light the fire of his segar emitted, and perceived
that it was only five minutes for twelve. Crossing over to the bunk on
which Alfred was lying, he whispered: "It is time." Silently they put