"What will he do with you now?" I asked, forgetting my own sorrows in his.
"Take me to the county jail. They would have done it to-day, only the jailer and he were off in search of you. Oh, if I had my hands and legs free, I would show him a trick worth two of his!" the robber exclaimed, surveying his limbs with a sigh.
"Leave here," he replied, "within an hour; and we would go together, and so double his rage."
"To do this all you want is your hands and feet?" I asked, doubtingly.
"That is all, and I wouldn't go through the door if it were open."
I could set him free, and why not, I asked myself, the sweat starting out all over me at the thought. What wrong would there be in it, for it was as the robber said--Moth had a right to put him there, but no right to treat me the same way, and in breaking the law he was no better than the highwayman. Reasoning thus, I determined to do what the robber said, and so answered:
"I'll cut the ropes, if that's all you want."
"I shall be much obliged if you will, but I'll not ask you to do it," he answered.
"How will you get out if you are free, as you say?" I asked, not seeing any way.
"Oh, easy enough," he answered. "I have been planning it all day as I lay here on my back. I would use the bench as a ram to displace the logs overhead, for they are short and not half fastened. Once in the loft, it would be easy to remove the shingles, and being on the roof, the ground is not ten feet away."
"It is; for the jail is a poor affair, and only intended for small offenders; and if prisoners have not escaped, it is because they were bound, as I am, or did not think it worth while to try."
What he said was true; and now resolved in my mind, and elated at the prospect of getting even with Moth, I went to the cupboard, and finding a knife, as I had thought, took it and cut the cords that bound the robber's arms and legs.
"There, you are free!" I cried, pleased at what I had done.
"Thank you, my lad; and now we will not lose any time, for we ought to be far away by sunrise," he answered. But when he got to his feet he could scarce stand. "It is nothing," he went on, noticing my surprise, "only I have to get the blood into my legs and arms again before I can do anything, for they are as stiff as ramrods." This did not take long, and in a few seconds he was busy with his preparations for our escape. "See!" he exclaimed, straightening up, "I can touch the ceiling with my hands. Now help me with the bench, for two are better than one. There, that will do. Now send the end of it into that log overhead, as if it were Moth's backbone. Good! we moved it a little. Now again. See! it is giving way." This was true, and at the third stroke it flew out of place, leaving an opening a foot wide. "That is fine, and one more will be enough. Now! right into the small of his back again," and with the words we gave the next log a stroke, lifting it clear from its place, as we had the first.