Between us, we led him to the window. We then thrust him out, and he stood shivering upon the cross-boarding of the scaffolding level with the window-sills.
“Slide down the poles, and run,” said I—and Pigtop together.
“I can’t,” said he, shuddering; “the chasm is awfully deep.”
“You must, or die the death of the felon.”
“Oh, what shall I do!”
“Cast off the lashing just above you,” said Pigtop; “pass it over the crosspiece over your head, make a running noose, put it under your arms, and keep the other end of the rope in your hand. You may either cling to the pole with your legs as you like, or not—for then you can lower yourself down at your ease, as comfortably as if you were taking a nap.”
“Come away, Pigtop—shut the window, close the shutters—the constables are upon us!” I exclaimed. This was done immediately, and thus was the immaculate Joshua shut out from all view. As the attacks on the door of the apartment became more energetic, and we concluded that Joshua was now safe, we were going to give the authorities entrance, when we heard a dreadful crash on the outside of the window.
“The lubber’s gone by the run, by God!” said Pigtop; “he’ll escape hanging, after all!”
“Let us hope in mercy not,” said Sir Reginald, shuddering. “I trust it is not so. I hear no scream, no shriek. I am sure, by the sound, that it was the toppling down of the boards; he has most likely displaced some of them in his descent.”
“Shall we admit, Sir Reginald, the people who are thundering at the door?”