lingeringly to darkness. At last his hand held before his nose was but a faint gray oblong and, fearing that if he tarried longer those whose duty it was to guard him would discover his absence and give the alarm, he decided to begin his attempt.
Before darkness had fallen, he had studied the ground about him and chosen a path. Now he set out to follow it. Prone on the ground, he squirmed forward, thrusting aside the slender trunks of the bushes with cautious hands and freeing his path of twigs and fallen branches. In spite of his efforts, absolute silence was impossible, and more than once his heart leaped into his mouth as a tiny snap was heard or a bush, released too quickly, rustled back into place. But though the sounds seemed alarmingly loud to him, they were doubtless no more than the natural noises of the night to the picket. Inch by inch and foot by foot David made his way through the thicket, leaving the village each moment farther behind. At last the bushes ended, or rather thinned, and the trunks of trees were about him. With a breath of relief he carefully got to his feet and, still testing every step, made his way noiselessly toward the south, guiding himself by fre-
