“It would be very useful in a place like Stirling,” said Johnny, looking hard at his prisoner.
“I suppose it would,” replied the king, in a tone indicating that it was no affair of his, “but you see I’m not a Stirling man myself. I belong rather to all Scotland; a man of the world, as you might say.”
By this time Peter had climbed to the highest room of the tower, worked his way on hands and knees out to the end of the beam, and had drawn up to him the swaying body. With the deftness of expert practice, he loosened the noose and the body dropped like a plummet through the air, disappearing into the chasm below. Peter, taking the noose with him, crawled backward, like a crab, out of sight, and into the tower again. Armstrong, from below, had opened the other sluice, and the empty platform descended as leisurely and as tremblingly as it had risen. Armstrong himself cut the cords that bound the ankles of his captives.
“Now, gentlemen,” he said, “if you will step on the platform I shall have the pleasure of showing you to your rooms.”
Three armed men and the three prisoners moved upwards together.
“A fine sylvan view you have,” said the king.
“Is it not!” exclaimed Armstrong, seemingly delighted that it pleased his visitor.
After the mechanical device had landed them some fifty feet above the rocks, they ascended several flights of stairs, a man with a torch leading the way. The prisoners were conducted to a small room, which had the roof of the tower for its ceiling. In a corner of the cell cowered a very abject specimen of the human race, who, when the others came, seemed anxious to attract as little attention as possible.
Armstrong, again, with his own hands removed the remaining cords from the prisoners, and the three stretched up their arms, glad to find them at liberty once more.
“Place the torch in its holder,” said Johnny. “Now, gentlemen, that will last long enough to light you to your supper, which you will find on the floor behind you. I’m sure you will rest here comfortably for the night. The air is pure at this height, and I think you’ll like this eagle’s nest better than a dungeon under the ground. For my own part, I abhor a subterranean cell, and goodness knows I’ve been in many a one, but we’re civilised folk here on the Border and try to treat our prisoners kindly.”