Yet the wall was not fully six feet from him, and the
top of it at least five feet above the top of the shed--
those who had designed the campong had been careful to
set this structure sufficiently far from the palisade
to prevent its forming too easy an avenue of escape.

The creature glanced fearfully toward the workshop.
He remembered the cruel bull whip that always followed
each new experiment on his part that did not coincide
with the desires of his master, and as he thought of
von Horn a nasty gleam shot his mismated eyes.

He tried to reach across the distance between the roof
and the palisade, and in the attempt lost his balance
and nearly precipitated himself to the ground below.
Cautiously he drew back, still looking about for some
means to cross the chasm. One of the saplings of the
roof, protruding beyond the palm leaf thatch, caught
his attention. With a single wrench he tore it from
its fastenings. Extending it toward the palisade he
discovered that it just spanned the gap, but he dared
not attempt to cross upon its single slender strand.

Quickly he ripped off a half dozen other poles from the
roof, and laying them side by side, formed a safe and
easy path to freedom. A moment more and he sat astride
the top of the wall. Drawing the poles after him, he
dropped them one by one to the ground outside the
campong. Then he lowered himself to liberty.