There was naught for me to do but sit and wait. The guard which M.

Cassion had stationed at the door prevented my leaving the room, but its more probable purpose was to keep others from communicating with me. De Tonty had evidently resorted to diplomacy, and instead of quarreling with the three officers when they approached him, had greeted them all so genially as to leave the impression that he was disposed to permit matters to take their natural course. He might be watched of course, yet was no longer suspicioned as likely to help rescue the prisoner. All their fear now was centered upon me, and my possible influence.

If I could be kept from any further communication with either De Artigny, or De Tonty, it was scarcely probable that any of the garrison would make serious effort to interfere with their plans. De Tonty's apparent indifference, and his sudden friendliness with De Baugis and Cassion, did not worry me greatly. I realized his purpose in thus diverting suspicion. His pledge of assistance had been given me, and his was the word of a soldier and gentleman. In some manner, and soon--before midnight certainly--I would receive message from Boisrondet.

Yet my heart failed me more than once as I waited. How long the time seemed, and how deadly silent was the night. Crouched close beside the door I could barely hear the muttered conversation of the soldiers on guard; and when I crossed to the open window I looked out upon a black void, utterly soundless. Not even the distant crack of a rifle now broke the solemn stillness, and the only spot of color visible was the dull red glow of a campfire on the opposite bank of the river. I had no way of computing time, and the lagging hours seemed centuries long, as terrifying doubts assailed me.

Every new thought became an agony of suspense. Had the plans failed?

Had Boisrondet discovered the prisoner so closely guarded as to make rescue impossible? Had his nerve, his daring, vanished before the real danger of the venture? Had De Artigny refused to accept the chance?

What had happened; what was happening out there in the mystery?

All I could do was pray, and wait. Perhaps no word would be given me--the escape might already be accomplished, and I left here to my fate. Boisrondet knew nothing of my decision to accompany De Artigny in his exile. If the way was difficult and dangerous, he might not consider it essential to communicate with me at all. De Tonty had promised, to be sure, yet he might have failed to so instruct the younger man. I clung to the window, the agony of this possibility, driving me wild.

_Mon Dieu!_ was that a noise overhead? I could see nothing, yet, as I leaned further out, a cord touched my face. I grasped it, and drew the dangling end in. It was weighted with a bit of wood. A single coal glowed in the fireplace, and from this I ignited a splinter, barely yielding me light enough to decipher the few words traced on the white surface: "Safe so far; have you any word?"

My veins throbbed; I could have screamed in delight, or sobbed in sudden joy and relief. I fairly crept to the window on hands and knees, animated now with but one thought, one hope--the desire not to be left here behind, alone. I hung far out, my face upturned, staring into the darkness. The distance was not great, only a few feet to the roof above, yet so black was the night that the edge above me blended imperceptibly against the sky. I could perceive no movement, no outline. Could they have already gone? Was it possible that they merely dropped this brief message, and instantly vanished? No, the cord still dangled; somewhere in that dense gloom, the two men peered over the roof edge waiting my response.

"Monsieur," I called up softly, unable to restrain my eagerness.

"Yes, Madame," it was De Artigny's voice, although a mere whisper.

"You have some word for me?"

"Ay, listen; is there any way by which I can join you?"

"Join me--here?" astonishment at my request made him incoherent. "Why, Madame, the risk is great--"

"Never mind that; my reason is worthy, nor have we time now to discuss the matter. Monsieur Boisrondet is there a way?"

I heard them speak to each other, a mere murmur of sound; then another voice reached my ears clearly.

"We have a strong grass rope, Madame, which will safely bear your weight. The risk will not be great. I have made a noose, and will lower it."

I reached it with my hand, but felt a doubt as my fingers clasped it.

"'Tis very small, Monsieur."

"But strong enough for double your weight, as 'twas Indian woven. Put foot in the noose, and hold tight. There are two of us holding it above."

The memory of the depth below frightened me, yet I crept forth on the narrow sill, clinging desperately to the taut rope, until I felt my foot safely pressed into the noose, which tightened firmly about it.

"Now," I said, barely able to make my lips speak. "I am ready."

"Then swing clear, Madame; we'll hold you safe."

I doubt if it was a full minute in which I swung out over that gulf amid the black night. My heart seemed to stop beating, and I retained no sense other than to cling desperately to the swaying cord which alone held me from being dashed to death on the jagged rocks below.

Inch by inch they drew me up, the continuous jerks yielding a sickening sensation, but the distance was so short, I could scarcely realize the full danger, before De Artigny grasped me with his hands, and drew me in beside him on the roof. I stood upon my feet, trembling from excitement, yet encouraged in my purpose, by his first words of welcome.

"Adele," he exclaimed, forgetful of the presence of his comrade.

"Surely you had serious cause for joining us here."

"Am I welcome, Monsieur?"

"Can you doubt? Yet surely it was not merely to say farewell that you assumed such risk?"

"No, Monsieur, it was not to say farewell. I would accompany you in your flight. Do not start like that at my words; I cannot see your face--perhaps if I could I should lose courage. I have made my choice, Monsieur. I will not remain the slave of M. Cassion. Whether for good or evil I give you my faith."

"You--you," his hands grasped mine. "You mean you will go with me into exile, into the woods?"

"Yes, Monsieur."

"But do you realize what it all means? I am a fugitive, a hunted man; never again can I venture within French civilization. I must live among savages. No, no, Adele, the sacrifice is too great. I cannot accept of it."

"Do you love me, Monsieur?"

"_Mon Dieu_--yes."

"Then there is no sacrifice. My heart would break here. God! Would you doom me to live out my life with that brute--that murderer? I am a young woman, a mere girl, and this is my one chance to save myself from hell. I am not afraid of the woods, of exile, of anything, so I am with you. I would rather die than go to him--to confess him husband."

"The lady is right, Rene," Boisrondet said earnestly. "You must think of her as well as yourself."

"Think of her! _Mon Dieu_, of whom else do I think. Adele, do you mean your words? Would you give up all for me?"

"Yes, Monsieur."

"But do you know what your choice means?"

I stood before him, brave in the darkness.

"Monsieur I have faced it all. I know; the choice is made--will you take me?"

Then I was in his strong arms, and for the first time, his lips met mine.

CHAPTER XXXI

WE REACH THE RIVER

It was the voice of Boisrondet which recalled us to a sense of danger.

"It is late, and we must not linger here," he insisted, touching De Artigny's sleeve. "The guard may discover your absence, Rene, before we get beyond the stockade. Come, we must move quickly."

"Ay, and with more than ever to give us courage, Francois. Yet how can we get Madame safely over the logs?"

"She must venture the same as we. Follow me closely, and tread with care."

So dark was the night I was obliged to trust entirely to De Artigny's guidance, but it was evident that both men were familiar with the way, and had thoroughly considered the best method of escape. No doubt De Tonty and his young lieutenant had arranged all details, so as to assure success. We traversed the flat roofs of the chain of log houses along the west side of the stockade until we came to the end. The only light visible was a dull glow of embers before the guardhouse near the center of the parade, which revealed a group of soldiers on duty. The stockade extended some distance beyond where we halted, crouched low on the flat roof to escape being seen. There would be armed men along that wall, especially near the gates, guarding against attack, but the darkness gave us no glimpse. There was no firing, no movement to be perceived. The two men crept to the edge, and looked cautiously over, and I clung close to De Artigny, nervous from the silence, and afraid to become separated. Below us was the dense blackness of the gorge.