I knew what the spikes were for, of course; to drive into the wall between the stones and climb up by.With the rope we were to drop ourselves over the wall the other side.It was thirty feet high -- no fool of a drop.
More than one man had been picked up disabled at the bottom of it.
He had a short stout piece of iron that did to hammer the spikes in;and that had to be done very soft and quiet, you may be sure.
It took a long time.I thought the night would be over and the daylight come before it was all done; it was so slow.I could hear the tick-tack of his iron every time he knocked one of the spikes in.
Of course he went higher every time.They were just far enough apart for a man to get his foot on from one to another.As he went up he had one end of the coil of the rope round his wrist.
When he got to the top he was to draw it up to fasten to the top spike, and lower himself down by it to the ground on the other side.
At last I felt him pull hard on the rope.I held it, and put my foot on the first spike.I don't know that I should have found it so very easy in the dark to get up by the spikes -- it was almost blackfellows' work, when they put their big toe into a notch cut in the smooth stem of a gum tree that runs a hundred feet without a branch, and climb up the outside of it --but Jim and I had often practised this sort of climbing when we were boys, and were both pretty good at it.As for Starlight, he had been to sea when he was young, and could climb like a cat.
When I got to the top I could just see his head above the wall.
The rope was fastened well to the top spike, which was driven almost to the head into the wall.Directly he saw me, he began to lower himself down the rope, and was out of sight in a minute.
I wasn't long after him, you may be sure.In my hurry I let the rope slip through my hands so fast they were sore for a week afterwards.
But I didn't feel it then.I should hardly have felt it if I had cut them in two, for as my feet touched the ground in the darkness I heard the stamp of a horse's hoof and the jingle of a bit --not much of a sound, but it went through my heart like a knife, along with the thought that I was a free man once more; that is, free in a manner of speaking.I knew we couldn't be taken then, bar accidents, and I felt ready to ride through a regiment of soldiers.
As I stood up a man caught my hand and gave it a squeeze as if he'd have crushed my fingers in.I knew it was Jim.Of course, I'd expected him to be there, but wasn't sure if he'd be able to work it.
We didn't speak, but started to walk over to where two horses were standing, with a man holding 'em.It was pretty dark, but I could see Rainbow's star -- just in his forehead it was -- the only white he had about him.
Of course it was Warrigal that was holding them.
`We must double-bank my horse,' whispers Jim, `for a mile or two, till we're clear of the place; we didn't want to bring a lot of horses about.'
He jumped up, and I mounted behind him.Starlight was on Rainbow in a second.
The half-caste disappeared, he was going to keep dark for a few days and send us the news.Jim's horse went off as if he had only ten stone on his back instead of pretty nigh five-and-twenty.
And we were free! Lord God! to think that men can be such fools as ever to do anything of their own free will and guiding that puts their liberty in danger when there's such a world outside of a gaol wall --such a heaven on earth as long as a man's young and strong, and has all the feelings of a free man, in a country like this.
Would I do the first crooked thing again if I had my life to live over again, and knew a hundredth part of what I know now? Would I put my hand in the fire out of laziness or greed? or sit still and let a snake sting me, knowing I should be dead in twelve hours? Any man's fool enough to do one that'll do the other.Men and women don't know this in time, that's the worst of it; they won't believe half they're told by them that do know and wish 'em well.They run on heedless and obstinate, too proud to take advice, till they do as we did.The world's always been the same, I suppose, and will to the end.Most of the books say so, anyway.