While he cut with his knife a hole in the floor, so that the point of the little saw could enter, I stood by the window listening for the footsteps that would herald a guard’s approach. He worked rapidly, yet in no apparent haste. He had that faculty of straining every nerve at what he was about, without seeming to do so; there was no waste energy, no fluster. And the cutting and sawing speedily bore fruit. So noiselessly and deftly did he work that in less than half an hour he had sawn a hole in the floor large enough to admit his body; and the dank smell of earth long hidden from sunlight struck me when I bent down to look. Then with a caution that I should watch closely and tap on the floor with my heel if any of the guard came poking around the cells, he wriggled through the opening and disappeared. I leaned against the wall, breathing a bit faster. The hole was cut in a corner, to the right of the cell door. From the outside it could scarcely be noticed. But I had wit enough to know that if a trooper glanced in and missed Barreau the hole would be discovered fast enough. Which would involve me in the attempt; and I was aware that jail-breakers fare ill if they are caught. But no one moved in the guardhouse, save now and then a prisoner shuffling about in his cell. Occasionally I could hear the low murmur of their voices—it was a small place and filled to its capacity—else Barreau and I would not have been penned together. After an interminable period he came quietly out from under the floor, and carefully fitted in their places the planks he had cut. One had to look closely to see a mark, after he had brushed into the cracks some dust from the floor. Barreau’s eyes twinkled when he sat down on his bunk and rolled himself a cigarette. “Everything just as it should be,” he told me. “Nothing to do but root away a little dirt from the bottom log of the outside wall. I could walk out, a free man, in five minutes. There will be a fine fuss and feathers to-night. They have never had a jail delivery here, you know. Lord, it’s easy though, when one has the tools.” “There’ll be a hot chase,” I suggested. “Will you stand much chance.” “That depends on how much of a start I get,” he said grimly. “I think I can fool them. If not—well——” He relapsed into silence. Someone clanked into the guard-room, and Barreau snuffed out his cigarette with one swift movement. In a second or two the trooper went out again. We could see him by flattening our faces against the bars, and when he was gone Blackie sat alone, his feet cocked up on a chair. “That reminds me,” Barreau spoke so that his words were audible to me alone. “Blackie’s a good fellow, and I must keep his skirts clear. He will be on guard till about eight this evening. Eight—nine—ten o’clock. At ten it should be as dark as it will get. I’ll drift then. Some other fellow will be on guard when you give the alarm.”