As the Irishman was nothing loth, all three were soon in the court, whence Mike led the way through the gate, round to the point where the stockade came near the cliffs, on the eastern side of the buildings.  This was the spot where the path that led down to the spring swept along the defences, and was on the very route by which the captain contemplated retreating, as well as on that by which Maud had entered the Hut, the night of the invasion.  At a convenient place, a palisade had been sawed off, so low in the ground that the sods, which had been cut and were moveable, concealed the injury, while the heads of the pins that ought to have bound the timber to the cross-piece, were in their holes, leaving everything apparently secure.  On removing the sods, and pushing the timber aside, the captain ascertained that a man might easily pass without the stockade.  As this corner was the most retired within the works, there was no longer any doubt that the hole had been used by all the deserters, including the women and children.  In what manner it became known to Nick, however, still remained matter of conjecture.

Orders were about to be given to secure this passage, when it occurred to the captain it might possibly be of use in effecting his own retreat.  With this object in view, then, he hastened away from the place, lest any wandering eye without might detect his presence near it, and conjecture the cause.  On returning to the library, the examination of Mike was resumed.

As the reader must be greatly puzzled with the county Leitrim-man’s manner of expressing himself, we shall relate the substance of what he now uttered, for the sake of brevity.  It would seem that Nick had succeeded in persuading Mike, first, that he, the Tuscarora, was a fast friend of the captain and his family, confined by the former, in consequence of a misconception of the real state of the Indian’s feelings, much to the detriment of all their interests; and that no better service could be rendered the Willoughbys than to let Nick depart, and for the Irishman to go with him.  Mike, however, had not the slightest idea of desertion, the motive which prevailed on him to quit the Hut being a desire to see the major, and, if possible, to help him escape.  As soon as this expectation was placed before his eyes, Mike became a convert to the Indian’s wishes.  Like all exceedingly zealous men, the Irishman had an itching propensity to be doing, and he was filled with a sort of boyish delight at the prospect of effecting a great service to those whom he so well loved, without their knowing it.  Such was the history of Michael’s seeming desertion; that of what occurred after he quitted the works remains to be related.