ng made one end fast around the stump of the bar, he lowered the
other down outside, cautiously, without a tinkle of its links. And now
again looking out and below, he was delighted to see that it reached
within a foot or two of the ledge. All this done, he once more sat down
on the side of the bed, to await the hour of midnight.

But he was not long quiescent, when a thought occurring caused him to
resume action.

"Why not try it now?" he mentally interrogated. "They're all in the
Refectory, having a fine time of it, drinking their famous wines. Some
grand occasion, I heard one of the _mozos_ say. There mightn't be a
better chance for me than this very minute--maybe not so good.
_Carramba_! I'll risk it now."

Quickly at the words he glided back to the window, climbed up into it,
and squeezing out through the aperture, let himself down on the chain,
link by link, as a monkey making descent of a _lliana_ in the forests of
the _tierra caliente_.

Soon as he found himself safe landed he let go the chain, and after a
minute or so spent in silent reconnaissance of the ledge, commenced
moving off along it.

Right he was in choosing that early hour, for the way he must needs take
led out into the open ground, in front of the building, where at a later
one a watch would have been stationed. There was none there now, and
without stop or challenge he passed on and down.

Though they had never allowed him to go outside the building, he
perfectly remembered the path by which he and the others had reached it,
on that memorable night after their escape from the chain-gang. He
recalled the two steep slopes, one above the other, with a narrow shelf
between, on which they encountered the sentinel, who had hailed, "_Quien
viva_?"

Sure to be one there now, and to such hail what answer could he make?

On this he reflected while descending the upper slope. The darkness due
to the overshadowing trees made it necessary for him to go slowly, so
giving him time. But it did not hinder his keeping to the path. With
his long arms like the tentacles of an octopus he was able to direct his
course, now and then using them to grasp overhanging branches, or the
parasites dependent therefrom. Withal he went cautiously, and so
silently, that the sentinel--for sure enough one was there--heard no
noise to warn him of an enemy behind. In his monkish garb, he was
standing on the outer edge of the shelf rock, his face turned to the
va