Little Otto was lying upon the hard couch in his cell, tossing in restless and feverish sleep; suddenly a heavy hand was laid upon him and a voice whispered in his ear, "Baron, Baron Otto, waken, rouse yourself; I am come to help you. I am One-eyed Hans."
Otto was awake in an instant and raised himself upon his elbow in the darkness. "One-eyed Hans," he breathed, "One-eyed Hans; who is One-eyed Hans?"
"True," said the other, "thou dost not know me. I am thy father's trusted servant, and am the only one excepting his own blood and kin who has clung to him in this hour of trouble. Yes, all are gone but me alone, and so I have come to help thee away from this vile place."
"Oh, dear, good Hans! if only thou canst!" cried Otto; "if only thou canst take me away from this wicked place. Alas, dear Hans!
I am weary and sick to death." And poor little Otto began to weep silently in the darkness.
"Aye, aye," said Hans, gruffly, "it is no place for a little child to be. Canst thou climb, my little master? canst thou climb a knotted rope?"
"Nay," said Otto, "I can never climb again! See, Hans;" and he flung back the covers from off him.
"I cannot see," said Hans, "it is too dark."
"Then feel, dear Hans," said Otto.
Hans bent over the poor little white figure glimmering palely in the darkness. Suddenly he drew back with a snarl like an angry wolf.
"Oh! the black, bloody wretches!" he cried, hoarsely; "and have they done that to thee, a little child?"
"Yes," said Otto, "the Baron Henry did it." And then again he began to cry.
"There, there," said Hans, roughly, "weep no more. Thou shalt get away from here even if thou canst not climb; I myself will help thee.
Thy father is already waiting below the window here, and thou shalt soon be with him. There, there, cry no more."
While he was speaking Hans had stripped off his peddler's leathern jacket, and there, around his body, was wrapped coil after coil of stout hempen rope tied in knots at short distances. He began unwinding the rope, and when he had done he was as thin as ever he had been before. Next he drew from the pouch that hung at his side a ball of fine cord and a leaden weight pierced by a hole, both of which he had brought with him for the use to which he now put them. He tied the lead to the end of the cord, then whirling the weight above his head, he flung it up toward the window high above. Twice the piece of lead fell back again into the room; the third time it flew out between the iron bars carrying the cord with it. Hans held the ball in his hand and paid out the string as the weight carried it downward toward the ground beneath. Suddenly the cord stopped running. Hans jerked it and shook it, but it moved no farther.
"Pray heaven, little child," said he, "that it hath reached the ground, for if it hath not we are certainly lost."
"I do pray," said Otto, and he bowed his head.
Then, as though in answer to his prayer, there came a twitch upon the cord.
