This is what BECAME of me. I went out alone to explore; I
fell into an ambuscade; I shot one of the enemy, and pinked another,
but my arm being broken by a bullet, and my horse killed under me, the
rascals got me. They took me about, tried to make a decoy of me as I
have told you, and ended by throwing me into a dungeon. They loaded me
with chains, too, though the walls were ten feet thick, and the door
iron, and bolted and double-bolted outside. And there for months and
years, in spite of wounds, hunger, thirst, and all the tortures those
cowards made me suffer, I lived, because, Rose, I had promised some one
at that gate there (and he turned suddenly and pointed to it) that I
would come back alive. At last, one night, my jailer came to my
cell drunk. I seized him by the throat and throttled him till he was
insensible; his keys unlocked my fetters, and locked him in the cell,
and I got safely outside. But there a sentinel saw me, and fired at
me. He missed me but ran after me, and caught me. You see I was stiff,
confined so long. He gave me a thrust of his bayonet; I flung my heavy
keys fiercely in his face; he staggered; I wrested his piece from him,
and disabled him.
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