Somebody came near, and they dashed into careless talk.
Roy looked round that night with a strange moved gaze, when the bulk of the prisoners were asleep. One night more after this—only one!—and then away for dear old England, for the land of freedom.
He thought of Molly, and of how she would look when she saw him walk in. He thought how glad his father and mother and Den would be, if once they could know that their boy, Den's friend, was safe in England. Not that Roy meant to stay at home. A little time in what now looked to him like heaven itself, and then away to fight for his Country, to help to overthrow the great tyrant.
It was worth while making the attempt, even though in that attempt he should die. He was so sick and weary of this long captivity. He had the craving of a caged bird for light and air, for exercise and active life. At the bare notion of liberty once more, his heart danced and sang. Then he bowed his head on his knees, and he prayed passionately that—if only it might be—he should succeed, and should find his way home. Home to Molly! Home to the dear old Country! The rapture of it!
"For Christ's sake, O God, let me go! Let me get away! O do not let them take us prisoners again!" he implored.
But prayer, though heard, is not always answered in the manner wished. And often one has to wait to know the reason.
[CHAPTER XXVI]
A PRISON TRAGEDY
MORNING dawned, and half of another slow day passed. Ah, how slow those unoccupied hours were! Roy could do nothing but hang listlessly about. He could think of nothing but the coming nightfall, when, after dark, but before they were ordered into the souterrain for the night, he and his companions would steal softly away to that high outer wall, and would scale it. All details of the plan thus far had been carefully thought out and arranged. Beyond that, most of them were trusting largely to what is called "the chapter of accidents."
To be free again! Ah, to be free!—free under the blue sky, free to breathe heaven's breezes, free to sun himself in heaven's smile, free to stretch his limbs, free to be a light-hearted English boy once more instead of a careworn man before his time! Roy flung his arms out and clutched the prison wall, in that craving for liberty.