To retaliate would be suicidal. The man carried an automatic besides this fearful, wirebound cowhide lash that laid open the bare flesh with every stroke. Bill’s anger blazed at the cowardly blow, but at the same time his hopes of escape sank to lowest pitch. What could unarmed men do against these beasts? An uprising of all the slaves would be practically an impossibility, quartered as they were in separate prisons. He also began to understand that even the uprising of one prison-house gang was not to be considered. By the end of the day, these worn out men were sure to be apathetic to any such proposal. The fearful punishment meted out for failure would stop all but the most courageous from joining a concentrated revolt against their masters—the slim chances of success would deter the others.