“Now, as you cannot swim I must go first. I only hope the rope is long enough. It cannot be more than a few feet short anyway, and worse come to the worst you must take a long breath and drop into the water. But before letting go, when your legs are dangling, grip one end of the rope and hold it, cut the rope above and the other end will fly up and we can pull it through. I want to leave no evidence.” Ian gave him a knife and then climbed out and gently let himself noiselessly down the rope. He found that the ends hung about two and a half feet above the water, just beyond a swimmer’s reach. Wilfred then followed, full of apprehension. When near the bottom Ian whispered,--“Hold on, but let your feet down into the water.” As the boy’s feet reached the moat, Ian trod water and put his arms up to him. This reassured him; as the child, who could not swim, naturally shrank from the plunge into the black deeps in the specially trying surroundings. “Cut the rope, hold the knotted end tight and let go,” said Ian. As the boy dropped, he caught him and by going under himself prevented the boy from being completely submerged. “Give me the rope,” and Ian pulled down a long length so as to swim over. “Hold on to me,” and he swam across. Just as they reached the bank the short end ran up suddenly, and the whole rope fell with a loud splash. The two fugitives waited fearfully lest it should raise the alarm, but nothing further broke the silence of the night. As they walked, dripping, to the hostel, Ian said,--“I wish you were not wet, but who would have thought of this? What shall we do?” They climbed through the window and Wilfred shivered violently, partly with cold and partly with excitement. “I shall leave the bed on the floor,” Ian said. “Come, let us get off your clothes.” He stripped the boy, rubbed him down with a dry towel and put him into bed. The friction started a warm glow and he was soon all right. Wilfred asked for his precious packet and while Ian was busy wringing out their clothes he opened it and dried the contents and put it under his pillow. At four o’clock Ian woke him. “I am so sorry about the wet things, but you must make for Carlisle at once as best you may.” “Never mind, I am warm again now, and used often to be wet through all day, when I was with the sheep.” After Wilfred had gone, Ian replaced both ropes and put the bed right. He stayed in Kirkoswald till nearly evening so as not to attract attention, and for the same reason went on to Penrith and returned by the other road to Carlisle the following day.