He kicked the heavy cement walls, but they were not
conductors of sound and no answer came.
He grew tired after a while, but the physical exertion had done him
good. The languid blood flowed in a better tide in his veins and his
mind became more keen. There must be some way out of this. Youth could
not give up hope. It was incredible, impossible that he should remain
always here, shut off from that wonderful free world outside. The roll
of the sea over his head made reply.
After a while he began to walk around his cell, around and around and
around, until his head grew dizzy, and he staggered. Then he would
reverse and go around and around and around the other way. He kept this
up until he could scarcely stand. He lay down and tried to sleep again.
But he must have slept a long time before, and sleep would not come. He
lay there on the blankets, staring at the walls and not seeing them,
until the soldiers came again with his food. Ned ate and drank in
silence. He was resolved not to ask a question, and, when the soldiers
departed, not a single word had been spoken.
The next day Ned had fever, the day after that he was worse, and on the
third day he became unconscious. Then he passed through a time, the
length of which he could not guess, but it was a most singular period.
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