The footstep approached the loft, halted beside the ladder that led up. “Gervaise” said a quavering, anxious voice. “Granther’s brother,” murmured Gervaise, and crept cautiously to the edge of the loft. Presently he disappeared down the ladder, and the three, crouched where the roof was lowest, heard a muted colloquy below. The farmer’s voice sounded alarmed and querulous, Gervaise’s soothing. At last they ceased to talk, and the old man’s slow and discontented step was heard to leave the barn. Gervaise came up the ladder and crawled over the straw to the escaped prisoners and runaway gaoler. The loft was now in darkness, only the square window glimmered yet, framing a sky from which the gold had not quite faded. “It’s boot and saddle, sound horn and away!” he said in a sober whisper. “We had not been gone two hours when some officious fool must seek the heart’s ease of Lantern’s company! No Lantern to be found—all dark! No new turnkey to be found either. Whereupon they waken an authority, and he’s inspired to open dungeon doors and look within! Hue and cry! Town first, but with the morning light men a-horseback on all roads.—They had it all at the fair—brought it all home. County’s afire to bring the wild beasts back. Country for as many miles as necessary will be scoured clean as a prize pannikin. Reward for capture, living or dead;—bands out to earn it. All manner penalties for any who harbour. The goodman here put two and two together,—matched four with four,—and at the first chance, while they’re all at supper, comes shivering out to warn us off. Granther’s brother’ll not tell, but travel it is!—Humphrey Lantern, you take the basket with what food’s left. We’ll need it. Toss the straw together so ’twill not show the lair. We’ll just wait till that last light goes.” They waited, felt their way to the ladder and down it, then out of the barn. Voices were noisy in the house a stone’s throw away. A woman came to the open door and stood looking out. When she had turned away, they entered the lane and followed it until it set them in the wood track they had left in the morning. Here they paused to consider their course. In that direction so many miles, as the crow flew, lay the port. Return to the road they had left at dawn, strive to keep upon it at least through the night, and so make certainly the greatest speed toward their goal? Night-time, and ordinarily there would be none or little travel through the night, and that little easily hidden from. But to-night the road might be most perilous; harrow and rake might be dragging along it. Nevertheless they decided for the road.