There were no fowl upon the moat; the splash I had
made was louder than any frog could have made; surely the
unaccustomed sound must this time have caught the sentry's ear! But
all was silent; maybe he was asleep; and in another few moments I
gained the top of the bank, breathless, rather, I suspect, from
excitement than exertion.
It seemed a very long time since I had left my comrades above:
doubtless it had seemed even longer to them. So, after the briefest
of pauses to recover my breath, I gave three sharp tugs upon the
bast line, which were immediately answered by three similar tugs:
this was the signal I had arranged with Joe. The tension on the
line was relaxed; Joe, hauling at the rope, was drawing the raft
gently back across the moat to its former position at the foot of
the wall. There was a short interval; then I knew from the jerking
of the bast line that a man was descending the rope, and when he
was almost level with me I saw his form very dimly. When I learned
from the cessation of the jerks that he was safe on the raft, I
hauled in my line, ferried the man across, and, leaning over, gave
him a helping hand up the bank. It was little Runnles.
"I've got my flute, sir," he whispered with strange inconsequence
as he came to my side.
"Lie on the ground and don't stir," I whispered back.
Again I gave three tugs, and the same sequence of events ensued.
One by one the men came down the rope, crossed the moat on the
raft, and joined me on the bank.
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