He was left in utter darkness.

No Squire.
After an anxious, sleepless night, he saw two long flecks of pale gray light slanting into the cell from the slits, like two long spears.

He rose, rolled up his mattress, got upon the roll, and put his mouth to one of the griffins' months.

He gave a low, just audible whistle, directing it towards the foliage of the tree.

Presently there was a slight rustling among the leaves, then one solitary chirrup, and in three minutes a whole chorus of melody burst upon his ear.
"I've waked the first bird," said he to himself, with a smile, "and he's waked all the rest.