A decree went forth forbidding the jailer to furnish food, making the prisoners 'dependent' upon friends without.
To come forward as a friend of these endungeoned was to incur the risk of arrest and death, while to remain in hiding was to leave friends to die of starvation.

Then men counted life not dear unto themselves.
Heroism became a contagion.

Even children dared death.

An old painting shows the guard awakened at midnight and gazing with wonder upon a little child thrusting food between the iron bars to its father.
In the darkness the soldiers sleeping in the corridors heard the rustling garments of some maiden or mother who loved life itself less than husband or friend.

These tides of sympathy made men strong against torture; old men lifted joyful eyes toward those above them.
Loving and beloved, the disciples shared their burdens, and those in the prison and those out of it together went to fruitful martyrdom.
When the flames of persecution had swept by and, for a time, good men had respite, Apollos recalled with joy the heroism of those without the prison who remembered the bonds of those within.