His lids drooped heavily over his eyes, his head sank deeper into the soft straw, and his last remembrance was that the tireless American was seated cross-legged in the moonlight, working furiously with his long knife upon one of the billets of wood.
So weary was the young guardsman that it was long past noon, and the sun was shining out of a cloudless blue sky, before he awoke. For a moment, enveloped as he was in straw, and with the rude arch of the dungeon meeting in four rough-hewn groinings above his head, he stared about him in bewilderment. Then in an instant the doings of the day before, his mission, the ambuscade, his imprisonment, all flashed back to him, and he sprang to his feet. His comrade, who had been dozing in the corner, jumped up also at the first movement, with his hand on his knife, and a sinister glance directed towards the door.
"Oh, it's you, is it?" said he, "I thought it was the man."
"Has some one been in, then?"
"Yes; they brought those two loaves and a jug of water, just about dawn, when I was settling down for a rest."
"And did he say anything?"
"No; it was the little black one."
"Simon, they called him."
"The same. He laid the things down and was gone. I thought that maybe if he came again we might get him to stop."
"How, then?"
"Maybe if we got these stirrup leathers round his ankles he would not get them off quite as easy as we have done."
"And what then?"
"Well, he would tell us where we are, and what is to be done with us."
"Pshaw! what does it matter since our mission is done?"
"It may not matter to you--there's no accounting for tastes--but it matters a good deal to me. I'm not used to sitting in a hole, like a bear in a trap, waiting for what other folks choose to do with me. It's new to me. I found Paris a pretty close sort of place, but it's a prairie compared to this. It don't suit a man of my habits, and I am going to come out of it."
"There's no help but patience, my friend."
"I don't know that. I'd get more help out of a bar and a few pegs." He opened his coat, and took out a short piece of rusted iron, and three small thick pieces of wood, sharpened at one end.
"Where did you get those, then?"
"These are my night's work. The bar is the top one of the grate. I had a job to loosen it, but there it is. The pegs I whittled out of that log."
"And what are they for?"
"Well, you see, peg number one goes in here, where I have picked a hole between the stones. Then I've made this other log into a mallet, and with two cracks there it is firm fixed, so that you can put your weight on it. Now these two go in the same way into the holes above here. So! Now, you see, you can stand up there and look out of that window without asking too much of your toe joint. Try it."
De Catinat sprang up and looked eagerly out between the bars.
"I do not know the place," said he, shaking his head.
"It may be any one of thirty castles which lie upon the south side of Paris, and within six or seven leagues of it. Which can it be? And who has any interest in treating us so? I would that I could see a coat of arms, which might help us. Ah! there is one yonder in the centre of the mullion of the window. But I can scarce read it at the distance. I warrant that your eyes are better than mine, Amos, and that you can read what is on yonder escutcheon."
"On what?"
"On the stone slab in the centre window."
"Yes, I see it plain enough. It looks to me like three turkey-buzzards sitting on a barrel of molasses."
"Three allurions in chief over a tower proper, maybe. Those are the arms of the Provence De Hautevilles. But it cannot be that. They have no chateau within a hundred leagues. No, I cannot tell where we are."
He was dropping back to the floor, and put his weight upon the bar. To his amazement, it came away in his hand.
"Look, Amos, look!" he cried.
"Ah, you've found it out! Well, I did that during the night."
"And how? With your knife?"
"No; I could make no way with my knife; but when I got the bar out of the grate, I managed faster.