I do not think that I had slept above half-an-hour when I was awoke by Merciful Wiggleskirk, who laid his hand on my shoulder and at the same moment bade me make no noise. There was a very dim moonlight flooding the cottage when I opened my eyes, and at first I took it for the dawn and thought that my last hour was come. “So they are ready, eh, lad,” says I, sitting up. “Faith, the night’s been short, but thank God, I have slept soundly.” “Hush, master,” says he. “The night’s not half over. We have work to do yet. Hearken to me--are you minded to escape if I show you the way?” “What’s all this?” I says, staring at him in the dim light. “Say plainly what’s on your mind.” “Why, then,” says he, “your cousin, Mistress French, has devised some plan of rescuing you, and it falls to me to carry out this part of it. Are you willing?” “Willing!” I says. “Come, let us hasten.” “First,” says he, “let me doctor your foot. We have still a quarter of an hour. I waked you in advance of the time so that I might be able to minister to your hurt. It may be that you’ll have to use that foot whether it pain you or no.” “I’ll make shift,” says I, all impatient now that I knew Alison had not forgotten me. I was anxious to proceed to our next movement, but Wiggleskirk made me sit down while he rubbed his balm of Gilead into my leg. He busied himself in this fashion for some minutes, and then proceeded to bandage my ankle and foot with linen swathes. “There,” says he at last. “Now stand up, master, and see if you cannot use your foot a little.” Now, whether it was the healing powers of Merciful’s ointment, or my own excitement at the thought of regaining my freedom that worked such wonders in me, I don’t know, but whatever it was I found on putting my foot to the ground that I could walk with some little difficulty. There was still much stiffness and discomfort in my foot, but the pain had abated in marvellous fashion. “Thou art a very miracle-monger,” says I. “Come, what do we turn to next?” “Have patience,” says he. “There’s much at stake.” He opened the door of the cottage and looked forth. The moon was then dipping into a bank of cloud. “Now,” says he, “I think we may venture,” and he beckoned me to follow him. We left the cottage, and turning the corner crept along behind the hedgerow. For fifty yards I contrived to amble along, but then the pain returned, and I was forced to call a halt. “Pain or no pain,” says Merciful, “we must onward,” and he drew my arm within his and supported me. Soon we came to a little grove of trees. “Here are two men with four horses,” he whispers in my ear. “Ask no question of them--all you have to do is to mount and ride. I shall be at your side, and we are going to your cousin.”