“To join together and make a rope to let himself down from the wall,” I said.
“That’s right, my lad—right as right; and all our chaps asleep, I suppose—bless ’em! They ought to be ashamed of theirselves. There was quite a dozen nice noo reins missing, and half of ’em gone for ever.”
“Not quite, Sergeant,” said Denham; “take your light and look carefully down yonder.”
The Sergeant stared, but did as he was told, holding the lantern low down by the crossing-stone.
“Well, I am blessed!” he cried. “Here, one of you, come and loosen this knot and coil the ropes up carefully.—But, I say, Mr Denham, how did they come there?”
Denham told him briefly of our adventure, and of what we surmised.
He whistled softly, and then said, “Why, I wonder you’re both alive. You do both look half-dead, gentlemen; and no wonder. This accounts for one lot, though. The others were tied together and one end made fast to a big stone—a loose one atop of the wall. He must have slid down there and got away. I never saw such sentries as we’ve got. All those cartridges fired away, and not one to hit. Why, they ought to have pumped him so full of lead that he couldn’t run. Run? No; so that he couldn’t walk. But you two must come to the Colonel and let him know.”
“No, no! Take us to Dr Duncombe,” said Denham.
“Afterwards, sir.”
“Then you must carry me,” said Denham, with a groan.