“Yes.”
“Then wait till I slide down the rope, ’cause it won’t hold us both; and I’ll get off the walls, and ye can jine me in the woods jist on top of the hill.”
With these parting words, Putney slid down the rope out of Iron Hand’s sight.
When the Tory thought a sufficient time had elapsed for his faithful ally to have reached a place of safety, he passed through the window, and seizing the dangling rope, began to descend slowly. Notwithstanding the weight of his body, the blast of the hurricane made him wave in the air.
The heavy tramp of approaching footsteps was borne to his ears by the wind. He stopped and listened. The patrol were passing along beneath him, laughing and talking. It was a terrible moment for the fugitive as he remained there suspended, motionless and breathless; but the soldiers soon passed, and the noise of their retreating footsteps, together with the murmur of their voices, soon died away.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he continued his descent. He shortly found himself standing upon one of the parapets of the fort. Iron Hand knew perfectly well where he was; for he had been upon this same wall before and reconnoitered; it was the time when those who had seen him had taken him for the captain’s ghost.
The wall was high from the outside, and he knew it would be madness to leap off. But about thirty yards from where he was standing, there was an angle where little steps were cut into the rocks leading to the ground. Could he but reach this place without being perceived, he would be safe.
The storm had increased, the flashes succeeded each other more rapidly, and the thunder growled fiercely. Iron Hand crawled cautiously on his hands and knees, and was near the angle, when there came a bright flash which lighted up the whole heavens.
The sentinel stationed on the wall opposite caught sight of him and fired. The Tory chieftain sprung to his feet, and clasping his hands to his side, he staggered a moment, then uttering a deep groan, fell to the ground within the fort. The report of the sentinel’s rifle aroused the whole garrison, who hastily seized their arms, thinking an attack had been made for the rescue of Iron Hand.
A file of soldiers hastened to the threatened spot, where they found the bloody and apparently lifeless form of the Tory. Two stalwart soldiers lifted him and bore him to the guard-house. The ball had entered his side and the blood was running freely from the wound.