All the next day he lay there, dozing in the heat of the sun upon the open roof. Every little while he raised himself on his elbow to look down into the street. He saw the soldiers marching back and forth there, so tiny in size, and heard their faint shouts as they halted and searched each passerby.
So they were hunting for him, eh? Well, let them hunt! He would rest here against the chimney pots until the sun had set and the wisp of a new moon had risen ... and then! Ah, then for mischief!
XIV
PETERKIN’S RESCUE
AND meanwhile Peterkin, in the dungeon deep, was lying face down upon the cold stone floor, trying his brave best to shut out from his head a thousand wild fears and torments which did not belong there. What if he should stay here in this dark cell for all his days? What if he should never again see the sunlight or hear the rustle of the trees? What should he do for food? And for drink?
He rose and walked up and down, up and down, across the little floor. He scanned each wall closely. No, there was no escape possible. The door was fast shut, and its iron bars firm. And the little window, through which the day was fading quickly, was higher, by far, than he could reach a-tiptoe. No, no escape!
The sky, through the window, was a little square of red now. Slowly it faded and grew dark. In the center of it a single star winked into view. Evening had come. And Peterkin must spend the night here, where the dew was gathering in gray, cobwebby streaks upon the chilly walls.
Then softly—as softly as the coming of the dew—there was a pitter-patter of light footsteps at the end of the hall. Someone was stealing down the mossy steps. Someone was approaching. He seized the bars with tightening fingers. His breath came fast. Yes, yes, it was——