As he came to the corner of the gaol, where the yard turned along the side, he was about to wheel round, when he ran against a man, with his arms extended for action, who was approaching from the opposite quarter.
They both started back a few paces.
“Avast there, mate!” cried the stranger, in English. “What cheer?”
“Halyard!” exclaimed Hildebrand, recognising the voice of his chief mariner. “How camest thou here?”
“I came with the Don to the gate,” answered Halyard. “Hearing fire-arms, I guessed ye were making way; and so, not to miss sport, came to lend a hand. The gate is open.”
“Where is our friend?” cried Hildebrand, looking round.
The young Spaniard, instead of being behind him, as he supposed him to be, was nowhere visible. Though the din within the gaol was now greatly heightened, and indicated that pursuit was close upon them, Hildebrand, on ascertaining this, sprang back to the gaol-door, determined to perish rather than leave him behind.
On gaining the door, he found him lying on the steps. In the hurry of his egress, and the prevailing darkness, the steps had escaped his observation, and, striding heedlessly forward, he had fallen over them. Hildebrand, though concerned at his situation, did not pause to inquire how this had happened, but, without a word of greeting, caught him up in his arms, and thus proceeded to carry him off.
They reached the gate without being interrupted. Halyard, who had closely followed Hildebrand, then led the way, and Hildebrand followed with the young cavalier.