Then, with a cheerful "Hi! hi!" he clambered back to his place, the barrier swung open, and we were out of Brest in the open country outside.
Little I cared that the mud plastered my back with a coat as thick as that I had on.

Little I cared that the drippings of the coach fell in my mouth and eyes, and the stench of stale straw almost choked me.

I was free! The noose on the gallows would remain empty for me.

I was so gay I believe I even laughed under the coach.
Presently, however, I began to realise that this security was not to be for ever.

When daylight came, or even sooner, should we reach the end of our first stage before, I should be able no longer to hide myself.
It would be wiser to escape half-an-hour too soon than be discovered half-an-hour too late.
So when, some four hours out, I judged by the toiling of the horses we were approaching the summit of a hill, I slipped from my perch, and after running some little way under the boot, cast loose just as the driver cracked his whip and the horses started at a spanking trot down the incline.
It frightened me to find myself standing in the open road and hear the diminishing sounds of the friendly diligence.