Part 19 (2/2)

Then the small company, with its valuable captives, set out to cross into York at the nearest point.

For about an hour the march was continued in silence, and the men were fatigued, for they had to carry the prisoners, both Allen and Baker refusing to walk one step.

A halt was called, and the soldiers were told they could rest for one hour.

They were delighted at the prospect, and laid themselves down on the gra.s.s.

So secure did they feel that they relaxed their watchfulness and allowed the prisoners to lie down by themselves a little distance away, yet not so far that they had any chance of escape.

Allen was singing a song of freedom; it was an old French ditty he had learned and often sung.

He sang, not because his spirits were light, but simply to prevent a feeling of melancholy overmastering him.

The singing satisfied his captors that he was resigned, and was not meditating any plan of escape.

In the midst of his song he heard a soft, low voice say:

”Do not speak, but listen.”

Baker had fallen asleep, and Allen knew that it was Eben who spoke; but how the boy got there, or, in fact, where he was, Allen could not conjecture.

”Here is a knife,” said Eben; ”I am going to cut the cords which bind your hands; you can then liberate Baker. When you are both free, keep still until you hear the cry of the catbird, and then leap to your feet and run, taking a course direct to the left; the boys are there in ambush, and you will be safe.”

While Eben was speaking he succeeded in cutting the cords, and Allen's hands were free.

Eben glided away as noiselessly as he came, and Allen woke Baker as quickly as possible.

”Heigho! Have we to continue our journey?”

”Hus.h.!.+ do not utter a word! We have a chance to escape, if you will listen and not speak.”

Allen told him all that had been done, and then quietly cut the other's cords.

Both men were free.

They lay as still as though the cords still bound their bodies.

Allen sang another song in a low, tremulous voice.

Again it had the effect of disarming suspicion.

A bird warbled in a tree, rather strangely for so late at night, but as one of the men remarked that it was the bird's lookout and not his, no notice was taken of it.

And then the warbling ceased and the peculiar call of the catbird was heard.

Instantly the two prisoners were on their feet and making for the wood.

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