Cedric crouched on his knees, gazing at the window till the sentry passed from sight; then softly he uttered the cry of an owl. At once some white object fluttered in the blackness of the cell window. Cedric rose to his feet, took careful aim at the window and let fly the bolt. But alas! the pull of the cord as it unwound from the ball checked the quarrel sadly, and it rang on the stones of the wall no higher than our heads. We crouched at once in the shadows, certain that the sentry had heard its steely stroke; but he came not back to the tower; and soon we breathed again. Cedric drew in the line and recharged his weapon, whispering to me the while that he should have better known than to have it so tightly coiled, and that another try, with the cord lying loose, would surely place the bolt within the window. Now the sentry came again on his rounds; and we waited perforce for his passing. When he had gone once more Cedric threw his weapon to his shoulder and sent the bolt on its way. How my ears strained in listening! And, an instant later, how my heart sank when I heard once more the clang of iron ’gainst the tower stones and realized that Cedric had failed a second time to strike his mark at fifty paces. This time the sentry heard the stroke—or so it seemed—for he came hurrying back to the tower battlements, and peered downward past the open window for minutes together. But all had become as still as death, and there was naught that he could see; so at length he turned away and resumed his pacing. As Cedric again drew in the quarrel, he whispered to me: “I have it now. The line drew down my bolt by a yard or more. I must allow for that by a higher aim. The third cast never fails; and for that we yet have time ere yonder sentry is sure there’s mischief afoot.” He took a fresh bolt and tied the cord with care about it. Then for the third time he aimed at the tower above us. ’Twas the lucky third indeed, for, close following the whir of the quarrel, came a muffled thud as it struck the oaken door within the cell. This seemed not to reach the ears of the sentry on the other side of the battlements, for though we listened with bated breath, there was no sound of his returning footsteps. The next instant we could see the unspent portion of the line was tightening with a pull from the tower. Then straightway the coil of rope left its place at our feet, swam through the moat and climbed the tower’s side. Cedric and I clasped hands in joy, for now we could see our project succeeding. In no more time than he needed to descend from the window, swim the moat and reach the horses in the hazel copse, Wilfrid would be safely away from Kimberley.