Just then a twinkling star was seen, and he discovered that one of the roof-boards was badly rotted.
Now, there was something tangible in the way of escape, and he eagerly began to tear away the decayed wood, laying the pieces gently on the flooring, until there was an aperture sufficiently large to admit of his passing through.
An instant later he was seated astride the ridge-pole, looking down into the yard where the ferocious dogs were running wildly to and fro as if having already scented their prey.
Now indeed was Jet at a loss to know what to do.
Even if the animals had not been below he would have hesitated to leap from the roof of the building lest he should strike upon the barricade of cord-wood with which the house was surrounded.
He must go down regardless of the many dangers, or return to the room where the men could murder him whenever they felt so disposed, and after a few second's reflection he chose the former course.
"There is one chance of getting away from the dogs, an' no show whatever that I'll ever leave here alive unless I go now," he said, to himself.
Clutching at the rough boards literally with his finger-nails, he slid slowly down toward the edge of the roof at a point farthest from the stable.
He could see the wall of wood directly beneath him, and hear the low growling of the dogs as they sniffed the air to discover the cause of the sounds which had aroused their suspicions.
To remain very long deliberating would be to run the risk of the animals giving an alarm, and Jet gathered himself for a spring.