Loud grunts greeted this sally, showing that even these starving men were not entirely lacking in humor. Gradually their merriment subsided, the old hag stretched herself full length upon the ground and Pic was left to the tender mercies of his newly-chosen guard.
He opened his eyes. The light of the rising moon reflected in the sky, showed him the form of the girl seated by his side. Her features were obscure. Her face was turned away, watching not him but the encircling sleepers and in particular the old hag who rolled and tumbled about as though in a torment of fanciful dreams.
Pic groaned inwardly. Would his jailer never weary of her task? The girl was wide awake and alert as he could see from her attitude and poise of head. Time was passing. If he could but free his hands, he might strike her down, leap clear of the group and escape.
As he strained the muscles of his arms to rid himself of his torturing bonds, a hand touched his shoulder. He ceased further effort and lay still. The girl was bending over him. Her face brushed his elbow. He could feel her warm breath gliding downward towards his wrists. Something tugged at the rawhide thong—something that sniffed and panted warm, moist respiration upon his palms. The girl was untying the knot with her teeth.
Little by little, the green leather relaxed and the blood circulated once more through Pic’s numbed hands. The wrappings were quickly removed. He was free. Not a word was spoken. He raised himself to a squatting position. An ax—the blade of Ach Eul—was placed within his grasp, then a hand patted his back and a voice whispered in his ear, one word: “Go.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, he arose to his feet and with body bent low, stepped among the sleeping men. Accidentally he touched one of them who stirred and half awoke, whereupon the fugitive sank quickly and silently to the ground and lay still. The moon was now climbing rapidly above the heights, flooding the heavens with its brilliant light. Pic became alarmed. The lifting darkness enabled him to see more clearly but it permitted others to see as well and thereby lessened his chances of escape. He allowed himself a brief period of inaction so that the one he had disturbed might become quiet; then rose again and glided forward with ax held aloft to brain the first who might awake and give the alarm. Had a single eye opened, it might easily have seen his dark form outlined against the sky. But no eye opened, not a sleeper stirred and he passed among them without let or hindrance.
As he stepped clear of the last prone figure, she whom he had left behind, remained silent, watching him steal slowly away. As he passed into the shadow of the cliff wall, she sighed deeply and her head fell forward upon her breast. Had Pic looked back, he might have seen the slim figure sitting upright with head bowed like a lamb amid a pack of blood-thirsty wolves. But he neither looked back nor saw, for already he had rounded a bend in the wall and was gone.