"He is better," he cried gaily as he came to the guard-house. "Monsieur makes light of his pains. Another would be groaning and groaning, till one would imagine he was on the point of death. But our prisoner sips his milk and asks to sleep, so that he may trouble no one. Ah, yes, and he wishes to know if he may walk in the courtyard later, just to exercise, you understand." "Certainly," came the answer. "Let monsieur walk if he wishes, though one would have thought that it would have been better were he to keep his bed till to-morrow. But there, these English are strange. They walk and walk, just for exercise as they say. Surely a man is better and lives longer when he rests, and rests often." Steve did not long remain on his couch. In a little while he was seated at the table with which he had been provided, and was engaged in writing. To the commandant he scribbled a few lines thanking him for his constant courtesy and kindness, and stating deliberately that he was tired of being a prisoner, and intended to escape if possible. Then he wrote a short note for his servant, enclosing a handsome amount of money and many thanks for his attention. Also he gave him instructions to make his adieus to a number of friends in the garrison. "Now I am ready," he thought. "It is dark now, and must be about seven o'clock. I shall wait till ten, and then go out. If they are suspicious I will return and then creep out again." He threw himself on his bed and dozed for a long while, till a step outside roused him. He sat up then to find Jean standing over his couch. "Monsieur is better?" he asked. "Then he will sleep, and to-morrow I will come later than usual to rouse him. Monsieur has no pain?" "Pain! You are a wonderful physician," answered Steve heartily. "I declare that I never felt better in all my life. What is the night like, Jean?" "Fine, monsieur, but somewhat dark. It is also crisp, and cold for this time of the year." "Then it is just the night to brace me up. I shall have a stroll, Jean, and then turn in. Yes, wake me late to-morrow, and, by the way, I am hungry." Jean was delighted with his master, and promptly produced food. "You are a strange person, monsieur," he said with a grin of satisfaction. "You are ill and in great pain at one moment, and then, behold! after a little sleep you are well again and wish to eat and to walk." "You forget. There was the warm milk, and Jean gave it to me," smiled Steve. "But I am hard. I have roughed it in the forests ever since I was a little fellow, and have had very little illness." He sat down at the table and ate a hearty meal. Then he lit his pipe and strolled into the courtyard, passing a few words with the sentries. "He is a fine young fellow, this monsieur," said one, to his comrade, when Steve had passed on. "If all are like him we shall have but a poor chance. Jacques, can you tell me why it is that our prisoner has never attempted an escape?"