Tom Strong, Lincoln's Scout

ell"-The Risk of the Roll-call-What Happened to Jake Johnson, Confederate Spy-Tom in Libby Prison-

over land that sloped down to another street, which occupied all the space between the southern wall of the warehouse and the canal that here bordered the James River. The bu

ISON AFT

ere allowed except in the dining-room in the middle of the floor and the hospital, swarmed with huge rats which climbed upstairs at night and nipped mouthfuls of human flesh when they could. There was no furniture. The prisoners slept on the floor, so crowded together that they had to lie spoon fash

Four! Prepare to spo

to the worn-out boy that he had just "spooned," when again he waked to hea

e. His arm ached with the vice-like grip that had been laid upon it and his knees, sticking through his torn trousers, had been barked against the floor, as he was dragged back, but he turned to the man who had laid hold of him, not w

gry, the man was.

don't you know b

s big person had saved his life, even if he did call him names. So he swallowed

w better. Can't we lo

ybody told

, s

side have orders to fire whenever they see anybody at a window. Last week two men were killed that way. I thought you we

ying to make the plan a reality. One trouble about the former plans at Libby had been that the whole mass of prisoners had known about them. There must always be leaders in such an enterprise, but hitherto the leaders had taken the crowd into their confidence. Now there were Confederate spies in the crowd, sham prisoners. The former plots had always been found out. Once or twice they had been allowed to ripen and the first fugitives had found their first free breath their last, for they had stumbled into a trap and had been instantly shot down upon the threshold of freedom. More often the ringleaders had disappeared, spirited away without warning and probably shot, while t

my boy," Colonel Rose warned him. "Kee

wned so prodigiously as to attract the attention he was trying to escape. An amateur actor is apt to overact his part. And all the time he was

kitchen and just east of it was the hospital. That room must be avoided too. Below the hospital was an unused cellar, half full of rotting straw and all full of squealing rats. It was called "Rat Hell." Outside of it was a small sewer that led to a larger one which

a dozen bricks at the back of the fireplace was cut out with the knife and the bricks pried out of place. This was done by Major A. G. Hamilton, Colonel Rose's chief assistant. He carefully replaced the bricks and flung handfuls of soot over them. He and Rose crept upstairs, carrying the sooty bit of burlap with them, and slept through what was left of the night. The next day was an anxious time for them. When they went down to the kitchen, where

place in it and drove it downward. One night Colonel Rose in his eagerness got into the opening before the lower part of it had been sufficiently enlarged and stuck there. It was only by a terrible effort that Hamilton and Tom finally dragged him out, bruised, bleeding and gasping for breath. Finally, after many nights, Rat Hell was reached. A bit of rope, stolen from about a box of food sent a prisoner, had been made into a rope ladder. It was hung from the edge of the hole. Th

d into the darkness of the basement, the Union officers were safely hid under the straw and only a few of the defeated rats still squealed. At last the tunnel to the sewer could be begun. Colonel Rose had long since decided, by forbidden, stealthy glances from an

ING T

dventures of t

entur

ey had stayed in it long. Five of the fifteen now went down each night, so that everybody had two nights' rest out of three. But the progress made was pitifully slow. Man after man was h

n air into

after one or two men always sat at the end of the tunnel fanning air into it with their hats. But

h it. But it had a wooden lining, which was bit by bit taken off. When this had been done to within a few feet of the main sewer, two men were detailed to cut their way through. The next night was set as the time for the escape. None of the thirteen slept while the two were cutting away the final obstacle. The thirteen did not sleep the next night eit

uture attempts to escape more dangerous and more doubtful. However, the roll-call problem was safely solved. The thirteen crowded into the upper end of the line and two of them, as soon as they had answered to their own names, dropped back, crouched down, crept behind the backs of many men to the other end of the line, slipped into place, and there answered for the missing men, without detection. In the afternoon, they came very near being caught. Some of the other prisoners thought this was being done just for fun, to con

ing sho'; there's eight or ten

the Confederate guards. The prisoners joined in it. "Little

ures of the Civil W

OF LIBBY PRISON

rg room (upper); 9. Gettysburg room (lower); 10. Hospital room; 11. East or "Rat Hell" cellar; 12. South side Canal street, ten feet lower than Carey street; 13. North side Carey stree

as laughed out of c

e stump of a blade, and the depressing news of failure. But men who are fit for freedom do not cease to strive for it. If one road to it is blocked, they seek another. That very day, when the fifteen had gathered together and the two had t

the yard we'd have to come out on the str

o them. The thing now is to get there. We have fifty-three feet of tunnel to dig, if my fi

for a fresh load. A fortnight afterwards the officer who was digging that night made a mistake in levels and came too near the surface, which broke above him. Dismayed, he backed o

dirt and won't show. Stuff it into the hol

care, and wriggled back. That morning at sunrise, when they peeked down from their prison windows into the eastern lot, even the

times called themselves Unionists and sometimes Confederates, and who did more stealing than fighting. So a rather cold shoulder was turned to the new captive, though the community's judgment upon him was deferred until after he should have been heard that evening. He seemed to try to warm the cold shoulder by a certain greasy sidling to and fro and by attempts at too familiar conversation. He began to talk to Colonel Rose, who soon shook him off, and to sundry other persons, among whom was Tom. The boy was not mature enough in the ways of the world to get rid of him. Johnson spent some hours with him and bored

ean-spirited in all these fellows to just hang around here, without ev

mouth shut about the pending plan for an escape. He thought Johnson got nothing out of him, but in the many half-confidential talks the unpleasant Yankee forced upon him, perhaps he h

of capture in a raid on a Confederate supply-depot,-the unpleasant memory which had been troubling Tom came back and hammered at his head until suddenly, as if a flashlight had been turned on the sc

s overseer on a plantation in Alabama. He '

ltered, stopped speaking, and sat down. Rose walked across the circle and sat beside him. He had sna

re you turned guerill

's any of your darned b

wer

inated the weaker. T

l shop in Jonesb

ywhere else i

N

thing else i

s the good of aski

se to his feet

r Ham

," answere

Jonesboro', Tennes

s,

w l

en y

he general

utterworth,

ou kno

e and I left Jonesboro' t

his m

covering his face with his hands. Other hands not too gently

ah Butterworth than

mmunity was crowded about Colone

Str

" Tom's voi

know t

story of Jake Johnson o

tations were not exactly popular in that crowd of Northern officers. And evidently

d you?" and choked Johnson with every pound of strength he could put into the process. He had just seen him slip a bit of paper into his mout

t Strong knows about it. T

pushed into a window. Two kneeling men held his legs and another, standing beside him but screened by the wall, pushed him in front of the window. The Confederate sentry below obeyed his orders. There was no challenge, no warning. He aimed and fired at the prisoner who was breaking the laws of the prison by looking out of the win

s usually only the anteroom of the graveyard at Libby. One of the scarcest things in the Confederacy, the home of scarcity, was a good doctor. The armies in the field needed far more doctors than there were in the whole South, at the outbreak of the war. Medical schools were quickly created, but the demand for doctors so far outran the supply that by this time ignorant country lads were being rushed through the schools, with reckless haste, so that

The new prisoners quickly heard of Johnson and of Tom Strong. Within an hour, Hans Rolf had given his parole not to try to escape and had been allowed to station himself beside Tom's bed. Through that night and through the next day, he fought Tom's battle for him, doing all that man could do. When the boy s

he said. "Everything's

h Rolf somehow or other there too. A gracious and beautiful Richmond woman, who gave her days to carin

into a profound sleep, from which he awoke to life and

in upon him. Hats were fanning to and fro, back in Rat Hell, fifty feet away, but the fresh air did not reach him. He felt himself suffocating. With one last effort he thrust his strong fists upward and broke through the surface. Soon revived by the rush of fresh air into the tunnel, he dragged himself

, it could be used later by other fugitives. With a rare unselfishness, they waited for sixty hours. Meanwhile each of the fifteen had been authorized to tell one other man, so that thirty in all could make their escape

r councils of the tunnel group. He had not expressed as much joy in the plan

Confeds. might have suspected some plan to escape was on hand. And they seem to have forgotten all about it, for they haven't cancelled it. So you see I'm bound in honor not to go. Don't bother, Tom." The boy's face showed the agony he felt tha

cattered about the room. It brought smiles to lips that had not smiled for ma

He was an officer and a gentleman.

et upstairs, some hundreds of men had come down. The secret was a secret no longer. There was a fierce struggle to get to the fireplace, a struggle all the fiercer because it had to be made in grim silence, for there was a sentry but a few feet away, on the other side of the wall, in the hospital. The bricks

he tunnel. His ragged clothes were still more ragged and his face and hands were bleeding from rat-bites, but he cared nothing for all this. Was he not on his way to freedom? On his way, yes; but the way was a long one. He might never reach the end. When he had pushed and pulled himself through the tunnel; when he had come out into the yard and gone

t of freedom had passed. He stepped to one side of the wooden sidewalk and crawled under it. There was just space enough for him to lie at full length. Hurrying feet, the feet of men hunting other men, trampled an inch above his nose. His heart beat so that he thought it must be heard. The patrol reached the street along the canal and peered into the darkness there, a darkness feebly fought by one flickering gas-lamp. Fortunately, nobody came out of the shed just then. The sentry happened to be coming towards it and the men inside were waiting for him