hich the fortress stood.
They found that on one side the hill sloped gently toward the city,
and on the other toward the sea. The face toward the city, except for
some venturesome goats grazing on its scant herbage, was bare and
deserted. The side that sloped to the sea was closely overgrown with
hardy mesquite bushes and wild laurel, which would effectually conceal
any one approaching from that direction. What had been the fortress
was now only a broken wall, a few feet in height. It was covered with
moss, and hidden by naked bushes with bristling thorns. Inside the
circumference of the wall was a broken pavement of flat stones.
Between these, trailing vines had forced their way, their roots
creeping like snakes over the stones and through their interstices,
while giant, ill-smelling weeds had turned the once open court-yard
into a maze. These weeds were sufficiently high to conceal any one who
did not walk upright, and while Peter kept watch outside the walled
ring, Roddy, on his hands and knees, forced his way painfully from
stone to stone. After a quarter of an hour of this slow progress he
came upon what once had been the mouth of the tunnel. It was an
opening in the pavement corresponding to a trap in a roof, or to a
hatch in the deck of a ship. The combings were of stone, and were
still intact, as were also the upper stones of a flight of steps that
led down to the tunnel. But below the level of the upper steps,
blocking further descent, were two great slabs of stone. They were
buried deep in a bed of cement, and riveted together and to the walls
of the tunnel by bands of iron. Roddy signalled for Peter to join him,
and in dismay they gazed at the formidable mass of rusty iron, cement
and stone.

"We might as well try to break into the Rock of Gibraltar!" gasped
Peter.

"Don't think of the difficulties," begged Roddy. "Think that on the
other side of that barrier an old man is slowly dying. I admit it's
going to be a tough job. It will take months. But whatever a man has
put together, a man can pull to pieces."

"I also try to see the bright side of life," returned Peter coldly,
"but I can't resist pointing out that the other end of your tunnel
opens into a prison. Breaking into a bank I can understand, but
breaking into a prison seems almost like looking for trouble."

The dinner that followed under the stars in their own court-yard did
much to dispel Peter's misgivings, and by midnight, so assured was he