"No, indeed," agreed Wallace, fervently. "But how are we to get away?"
"We'll see," returned Al. "Hold me up while I look at this window. Be mighty quiet, so the sentry won't hear us."
Wallace bent his back, and Al stepped on it and felt the iron bars of the high window overlooking the river. Every one was firm and solid.
"We can't get through there," he whispered, after descending to the floor again. "It would take two weeks' work to loosen one of those bars."
Total darkness had fallen by this time, for in the middle of October night comes much earlier than in the months of July and August, during which the boys had been campaigning in Dakota and Montana. They started around the room in opposite directions, feeling of the boarded windows. When they came together again, Wallace said,
"There's one over here may do. The planks are spiked fast to the window sill, but the sill seems to be rotten or loose."
He crept again to the window referred to, followed by Al. They found that by working the planks back and forth they could move the portion of the casing to which they were fastened. In a few moments they had an opening large enough at the bottom for them to crawl through.
"This is mighty lucky, but let's wait a while," cautioned Wallace. "There are too many people moving around, and the sentry is wide awake yet."
They waited one hour, and then two. The sounds of voices and footsteps gradually died away outside. For a long time their guard walked back and forth on the ground before the door, then they heard him fling himself down with a grunt.
"It'll be an hour and a half at least before he's relieved," whispered Al. "He'll doze or sleep."