Feeling with his outstretched hands in the darkness, he found that the aperture in the roof at this point was sufficiently large to admit of his passing through without any difficulty.
Thrice he made the attempt, but each time was unsuccessful.
The charred wood was not strong enough to support his weight, and it gave way, letting him back again.
But the fourth time he got a firmer hold and drew himself out upon the roof.
The rain seemed to beat down upon him with redoubled fury, as though it meant to drive him from his perch.
But he did not care for this. His only solicitude was for fear that the roof between him and the eaves was not strong enough to hold him, and that he would fall through into the loft again.
Slowly he moved down over the inclined plane.
It was no easy job to keep his hold good, and at the same time make sure that the roof was strong enough to bear his weight.
The rain made it slippery, and had it not been for the action of the fire upon the timbers of which it was composed, he could never have kept good his hold there.
But slowly and carefully he went on, and at last drew close to the eaves.