“What did you go down for?” I asked.
“I cut the other rope and dropped it into the fireplace.”
Instead of the enemy catching us, we had caught the enemy.
We were soon down upon the ground again, and on our homeward way, but on rounding the corner of the Keep we espied a glimmer of light coming through the ivy-leaves which covered the window of our private den.
“Let us hail them,” said Percy; and on my acquiescing he called out, “Hallo, up there!”
Immediately the leaves parted, and a face, illuminated by a candle, appeared. It was Bates. At his exclamation of surprise on seeing us—for the moon was up—his face was at once surrounded by those of the three keepers, who gazed in wonder at our unexpected appearance.
“Good-bye, Keepers,” cried Percy. “I’ve cut the rope in the chimney, and you can’t get out. I’m sorry to inconvenience you, but I’m afraid you are likely to starve to death. There’s plenty of fire-wood, and there are three sparrows and a blackbird hanging on a nail in the corner; they will keep you alive for a day or two; after that you can cook Bates. Good-bye.”
With that we turned our backs upon the prisoners and set off at a brisk trot for the vicarage.
There was a summer-house in one corner of the vicarage garden, and to this we repaired in order that we might consult as to our future proceedings.
“Do you believe that poaching is a hanging matter, Tom?” asked Percy. “I remember my father telling me that there were once two hundred and forty hanging offences in England, and this one might have been left over when they repealed the others.”