As he crept on he began to wonder next whether the prisoners would miss them, and do or say anything to call the attention of the guard; but all remained still, save that the Maoris laughed aloud at something one of them had said.
This gave him confidence, and ceasing his crawling movement, he rose to his hands and feet, and crept on all fours to the fence, where he rose now to an erect position, and began to feel about for the rough post.
Jem was up and by him directly after. Don placed his lips to his ear.
“Whereabouts was it?”
“Somewhere ’bout here. You try one way, and I’ll try the other,” whispered Jem; and then Don gripped his arm, and they stood listening, for a faint rustling sound seemed to come from outside.
The noise was not repeated; but for quite half an hour they remained listening, till, gaining courage from the silence—the Maori guard only speaking from time to time, and then in a low, drowsy voice—Don began to follow Jem’s suggestion, feeling post after post, and sometimes passing his arm through. But every one of the stout pales he touched was smooth and unclimbable without some help; and thinking that perhaps he had missed the place, he began to move back in the darkness, straining his ears the while to catch any sound made by his companion.
But all was perfectly still, and every pale he touched was smooth and regular, set, too, so close to the next that there was not the slightest chance of even a child creeping through.
All at once there was a rustling sound on his left.
“Jem has found it,” he thought; and he pressed forward toward where he had parted from Jem, passing one hand along the pales, the other extended so as to touch his companion as soon as they were near.
The rustling sound again close at hand; but he dare not speak, only creep on in the dense blackness, straining his eyes to see; and his ears to catch his companion’s breath.