This gave him an opportunity to study the fortress, to make himself acquainted with the surrounding country, and to mature his plans. How far his friend had a hand in the matter, he did not reveal. He had held carefully aloof from Roy himself, till matters were ripe. Then he contrived to be sent into the yard, just at the right time. The rest Roy knew.
"Why was I put into that cell?" asked Roy.
"M'sieu, there were doubtless reasons. It is sometimes best that one should not understand everything," meditatively observed Jean. "What if—perhaps—somebody had known of the intended escape, and had tried by such means to save m'sieu from danger?"
"Was it you, Jean?"
"Non, m'sieu." But whether Jean spoke the truth, whether he might or might not have had a hand in the wirepulling which had led to that event, Roy could not know. He had but to be thankful that he was free.
After darkness had some time set in, a rough little cart, drawn by a rough little pony, and driven by a charcoal-burner, came to the door. Then he and Jean started, taking with them a small lantern.
The next stage of the journey meant quicker and easier advance than that of the previous night. The pony was strong and willing; and all through the hours of darkness they were getting further and further away from Bitche. By dawn of day the fear of pursuit was immensely lessened. Even if the gendarmes had overtaken them, they would hardly have suspected the odd figure in a smart old coat and ancient cocked hat to be the temporary wood-chopper at Bitche, or the black-haired boy in a rough blouse to be their prisoner, Roy Baron.
For greater safety, both that day and next, they found a retired spot in which to hide, letting the pony loose to browse on some rough ground, or putting up it and the cart at a wayside inn, and calling there later. One way and another the dreaded pursuit was eluded; and as day after day went by, Roy felt himself indeed nearer home.