This task accomplished, he turned to his pallet and taking up the old blanket allowed him for a covering, began to tear it into strips. He meant to make a rope of it to lower himself down outside. But finding it quite rotten, and doubting whether it would bear his weight, he desisted and sat for a time considering. Not long till he bethought himself of something more suitable for his purpose—the chain.
“Bah!” he exclaimed, tossing aside the rags he had commenced splicing together, “why didn’t I think of that? Well, it’s not too late yet. Good three yards—long enough. And the stupid has left the key behind, which fits both ends. So, Mr Chain, considering the world of worry and trouble you’ve been to me, it’s time, and only fair, you should do me a good turn by way of recompense. After you’ve done it, I’ll forgive you.”
While muttering this quaint apostrophe, he commenced groping about over the floor—not for the chain, but the key, which he knew Gregorio had left, after releasing his leg from the clasp. The mayor-domo had either forgotten, or did not think it was worth while taking it away.
Having found it, he felt his way to the ring bolt, and unlocking the clasp at that end, returned to the window, taking the chain with him. Having made one end fast around the stump of the bar, he lowered the other down outside, cautiously, without a tinkle of its links. And now again looking out and below, he was delighted to see that it reached within a foot or two of the ledge. All this done, he once more sat down on the side of the bed, to await the hour of midnight.
But he was not long quiescent, when a thought occurring caused him to resume action.
“Why not try it now?” he mentally interrogated. “They’re all in the Refectory, having a fine time of it, drinking their famous wines. Some grand occasion, I heard one of the mozos say. There mightn’t be a better chance for me than this very minute—maybe not so good. Carramba! I’ll risk it now.”
Quickly at the words he glided back to the window, climbed up into it, and squeezing out through the aperture, let himself down on the chain, link by link, as a monkey making descent of a lliana in the forests of the tierra caliente.
Soon as he found himself safe landed he let go the chain, and after a minute or so spent in silent reconnaissance of the ledge, commenced moving off along it.
Right he was in choosing that early hour, for the way he must needs take led out into the open ground, in front of the building, where at a later one a watch would have been stationed. There was none there now, and without stop or challenge he passed on and down.
Though they had never allowed him to go outside the building, he perfectly remembered the path by which he and the others had reached it, on that memorable night after their escape from the chain-gang. He recalled the two steep slopes, one above the other, with a narrow shelf between, on which they encountered the sentinel, who had hailed, “Quien viva?”