A halt was called, and the soldiers were told they could rest for one hour.
They were delighted at the prospect, and laid themselves down on the grass.
So secure did they feel that they relaxed their watchfulness and allowed the prisoners to lie down by themselves a little distance away, yet not so far that they had any chance of escape.
Allen was singing a song of freedom; it was an old French ditty he had learned and often sung.
He sang, not because his spirits were light, but simply to prevent a feeling of melancholy overmastering him.
The singing satisfied his captors that he was resigned, and was not meditating any plan of escape.
In the midst of his song he heard a soft, low voice say:
"Do not speak, but listen."
Baker had fallen asleep, and Allen knew that it was Eben who spoke; but how the boy got there, or, in fact, where he was, Allen could not conjecture.
"Here is a knife," said Eben; "I am going to cut the cords which bind your hands; you can then liberate Baker. When you are both free, keep still until you hear the cry of the catbird, and then leap to your feet and run, taking a course direct to the left; the boys are there in ambush, and you will be safe."