made a square glow on the snow outside. Presently,
the light in Michael's room, also, went out. McTavish, crossing
the floor noiselessly in his moccasins, sat down in his chair, and
smoked his new pipe, for the better part of an hour. By that time,
a gentle buzzing, varied with wheezes and whines, attested that
Michael was asleep.

Forthwith, Donald stepped cautiously to the window. He was fully
acquainted with its peculiarities; he had studied them all day. It
was one of those squares of wood and glass set into a frame without
any means of opening either by lifting or swinging. To escape, he
would have to push the window bodily from its frame.

But then what? The bars were outside, and not two inches away.

Following a plan already matured, he took a block of wood from the
box beside the little, pot-bellied iron stove. This he wrapped in
a blanket, and used as a battering ram, at first gently, but,
presently, with more force, since the noise of the storm without
almost negatived any other sound. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Each
corner of the window, in turn, moved an eighth of an inch from its
long resting-place, with many groans and snappings of wood and ice.
But, resolutely, he kept to the work, stopping every now and then
to listen and make sure that Michael was still breathing heavily.

At last, the window was at the edge of its deep casement, and Donald
now devoted his entire attention to the lower corners. Tapping them
gently, he got them gradually to swing off the frame, and the blast
came rushing in. The window now appeared as though swung from hinges
at the top. McTavish pushed it until it came to rest against the
iron bars outside. There was an inch and a half of space beneath
the outswung frame.

Then, the prisoner changed his tools. Going to the stove, he returned
with the poker, and the end of this he set firmly against the last
bar to the right. A quick, mighty effort, and the sawed iron
snapped noiselessly, and bent outward and upward. One after another,
he gave the remaining four the same treatment. Eventually, they
all stood out six inches from their almost imperceptible stumps.

Now, to get rid of the window. Donald resorted once again to his
muffled block of wood, and tapped at the top until the frame dropped
silently off into the snow. To bend the bars back so as to allow
his exit was now an easy matter, and soon accomplished. With his
snowshoes in his hands, he wriggled head first through the s