Part 44 (1/2)

”The bars would prevent you getting out?”

The hunter's head nodded like a mandarin's.

”Is that all? Then I may as well tell you. Hus.h.!.+ some one is coming.”

One of the sentinels had thrust his head inside the door; he luckily withdrew it, convinced that all was right.

On its disappearance Carrol's mysterious visitor returned, and resumed the conversation.

”You think those bars would hinder your escape?”

Another nod was the answer.

”You are mistaken.”

The backwoodsman, now perfectly _au fait_ with his pantomimic part of the dialogue, gave a modest but expressive look of dissent.

”I tell you you are mistaken,” continued the young girl, ”they are all sawn through. I see you are curious to know who did that?”

Cris said ”yes,” without speaking a word.

”It was I!”

”You?” he telegraphed.

”Yes; I was once a close prisoner in this very room--not watched as you are, but still a prisoner. I broke a watch to pieces, took out the mainspring, filed a saw with the nail-cleaning blade of a pen-knife, and with that I sawed away the bars, leaving barely enough to hold them together.”

Carrol's look expressed astonishment.

”Yes; it _was_ hard work, and it took weeks to accomplish it. I dare say you wonder why I didn't make my escape. That's too long a story to tell you now.”

The backwoodsman's look was very eloquent, and his visitor equally quick of comprehension. By that look he asked a question.

”No; I'm not a prisoner now,” she answered, ”only in name. You shall have the benefit of my labours. But you must do everything cautiously.

And first, to get rid of your guards.”

”How was that to be done?”

It was the captive who asked himself this question.

”Here is a bottle,” continued she; ”it contains a sleeping draught.

When they return, ask them for a drink; they will give it to you in a gourd; manage to pour the contents of this bottle into the gourd, and invite them to drink along with you. They will do so, as they never refuse a condemned captive. In a few minutes the draught will take effect. Then climb to the window, remove the bars without noise, let yourself down softly, and make your way straight into the forest. No thanks, till I see you again!”

With these words his visitor vanished, the opening in the wall closed noiselessly, and Cris lay wondering whether he had been sleeping or waking, listening to a soft, delicate voice, or only dreaming that he heard it.

The phial in his hand, however, gave token that he had not been dreaming. His visitor was no creature of another world, but one of this mundane sphere.

The hunter scratched his head with bewilderment, and mentally reviewed the situation.