When the window was reached he paused once more to listen, but the quiet that was everywhere throughout the house gave him confidence.

He straddled the low sill, and putting out his hand gripped the stock of his rifle and drew that ancient weapon toward him.

Next he secured his pack, and was ready for flight.
Encumbered by his belongings, but with no mind to sacrifice them, he stepped out upon the shed and made his way down the slant of the roof to the eaves.

He tossed his bundle to the ground and going down on his knees lowered his rifle, letting the muzzle fall lightly against the side of the shed as it left his hand, then he lay flat on his stomach and, feet first, wriggled out into space.

When he could no longer preserve his balance, he gave himself a shove away from the eaves and dropped clear of the building.
As he recovered himself he was sure he heard a door open and close, and threw himself prone on the ground, where the black shadow cast by the tavern hid him.