True, they had promised to let him go if he waited till daylight; but perhaps they were deceiving him, as he was deceiving them--why not?
They thought him mad.

It was a ruse, a stratagem, to keep him quiet awhile, and then bring him back,--"restore him to his afflicted friends." His friends, truly! He would be too cunning for them yet.

And even if they meant to let him go, would he accept liberty from them, or any man?
No; he was free! He had a right to go; and go he would, that moment! He raised himself cautiously.

The lanthorn had burned to the socket: and he could not see the men, though they were not four yards off; but by their regular and heavy breathing he could tell that they both slept soundly.

He slipped from under the plaid; drew off his shoes, for fear of noise among the rocks, and rose.