Then they walked to the bûcher. One gendarme knocked down a few fagots, and another pulled at a log. To Roy it sounded as if they were making their way into where he lay. But after what he felt to be a century of suspense, they left the outhouse. He heard them mount their horses and trot off.
"Safe!" murmured Roy, and in his heart was a fervent "Thank God!"
Presently he dropped asleep again, and knew no more for hours. When he woke he had the consciousness, which one often has after long sleep, of a considerable time having passed; yet whether it was now morning or afternoon or evening he could not tell. To sleep more was not possible. He was growing frightfully weary of his constrained position. A voice at length sounded near.
"M'sieu!"
"All right," called Roy.
"Can m'sieu wait a little longer? It is not safe to move till after dark."
"I'll wait, Jean. Only, as soon as you can, please."
The wisdom of Jean's caution became evident. Before darkness settled down, the same party of gendarmes galloped up once more. As before, they walked through cottage and shed, kicking the furniture about, knocking down some logs, and using rough language about the escaped prisoner, which boded no gentle treatment for Roy, should he fall into their clutches. But the search was perfunctory, and soon they vanished, silence following their departure.
One more hour Roy had to endure. Then came the welcome sound of Jean removing the wood-piles.
"Can m'sieu stand?"