I do not recall any more nervous promenades in my life, than those when, taking my turn, I received my bucket of sand at the mouth of the tunnel, and walked slowly away with it.

The most disagreeable part was in turning my back to the guard.

Could I have faced him, I had sufficient confidence in my quickness of perception, and talents as a dodger, to imagine that I could make it difficult for him to hit me.

But in walling with my back to him I was wholly at his mercy.

Fortune, however, favored us, and we were allowed to go on with our work--night after night--without a shot.
In the meanwhile another happy thought slowly gestated in Davis's alleged intellect.