Weakened by his unpleasant experiences, Roberts was not prepared to undertake that trip immediately. It was then well on toward sunset, but he resolved to rest several hours, at any rate.
He crept back into the bushes a short distance to make himself safe from discovery and stretched himself out to rest. Several hours passed in that way, and then, as darkness once more settled upon the place, he crept forward for a closer view of the house before leaving it. He had not taken very many steps, however, before something occurred which caused him to stop abruptly. He could see, through the bushes, the lights shining out from one or two of the windows. Suddenly, his ears were caught by a confused sound of voices. He sprang forward to the edge of the bushes and gazed out just in time to witness an exciting scene.
The doorway was open and a flood of light was pouring out. In the doorway several men were struggling violently.
At that very instant one of the voices cried out in English: “Help! Help!” And to his consternation Roberts recognized the voice as the same he had heard through the keyhole of his cell! It was the American prisoner!
As Roberts realized this, all thought of caution left him. With a yell he leaped forward and bounded across the lawn at the top of his speed.
The rest happened so quickly that Roberts had no time to think. He saw the figures silhouetted in the light of the doorway, one man making a desperate struggle against two or three others. Roberts reached the foot of the steps leading up to the piazza at the very same instant that another figure came dashing around the corner of the porch, crying out excitedly in French. He recognized both the voice and form as those of the hated master of the house.
It was the opportunity for which he had been wishing. He flung himself upon the man, and before the latter had time even to throw up his hands dealt him a blow with all the power of his arm, catching him in the chest and sending him reeling backward; then, with a shout of encouragement, he turned and dashed toward the doorway.
He was in the very nick of time, for the other prisoner, who had been making a gallant fight for his liberty, was now almost overpowered by the men. Roberts recognized them as the same servants who had welcomed him upon his entrance. Several others were rushing down the hallway to join in the struggle, when he flung himself through the doorway. One of the men had pinned the unfortunate prisoner to the wall, but Roberts dealt him a blow that sent him flying backward. The others turned with a cry of alarm, at the same time loosening their hold upon the prisoner.
And the latter whirled like a flash, and before Roberts had time to shout to him had dashed out of the doorway and down the steps of the building. His rescuer paused only long enough to repel a furious onslaught, and then he, too, turned and rushed away into the darkness.
“Run! Run!” he yelled to the man he had helped. “Run for your life!”