In a trice John was beside him. In ten seconds he had cut the ropes. In twenty both were at the back of the hut. Now Bill took the lead. He plunged into a banana plantation behind the line of huts, and made his way swiftly towards the stockade. They came to the gate: it was unguarded. Being merely a sort of strong hurdle of thorn, held in position by a few logs, its removal was easy. They passed out, and lifted the gate back to its former position, though, of course, they were unable to fasten it. They then ran across the stretch of trodden grass outside the village, down the hill towards the river. Far to the left a lion roared, and John heard his companion utter the strange gulping sound which in the negro indicates fright. A night journey in these wilds was a perilous undertaking. They had one spear between them, a paltry weapon if they should be pounced upon by some beast of prey. There was just enough light from the stars to enable them to choose the opener ground, avoiding bush and trees in which wild beasts might lurk. They moved fast, for John had set his heart on reaching the neighbourhood of the fort before dawn. There were few able-bodied men left in the village, but these would turn out in the morning as soon as the escape was discovered, and scour the surrounding country. This was reason enough for haste, but there was another. If they did not succeed in entering the fort before daylight, it would probably be impossible until the following night. The attack in all likelihood had not yet been made; the villagers would scarcely attempt it after their long march; John’s whole mind was set on standing by Ferrier’s side when the assault came. On they went, running when the ground permitted. Every now and then John had to stop for Bill’s sake, the poor old man, weakened by terror and hunger (John discovered afterwards that he had had no food all day), being unequal to the pace. Presently, in descending too rapidly a sharp declivity, John slipped and sprained himself. When he started again every movement was painful. To go at any great speed was now impossible. Still he pushed on, grudging every lost minute of the night.