"I'm a different man," Desmond said. "If I have to run to-night, then the man that tries to catch me will have to do it with a bullet!"

"That's likely enough," Jim said, laughing. "Well, come and see how we're going to get out."

There seemed little enough chance, as they searched from floor to floor. The great door was strong enough to resist ten men; the windows were only slits, far too narrow to allow them to pa.s.s through, even had they dared risk the noise of breaking their thick gla.s.s. Up and up they went, their hearts sinking as their bodies mounted; seeing no possible way of leaving their round prison.

"Rats in a trap!" said Desmond. "There's nothing for it but those beastly barrels again--and to watch our chance of settling Emil and his pal when they come to-morrow."

"Let's look out here," Jim said.

They were at the top of the mill, in a little circular place, barely large enough for them to stand upright. A low door opened upon a tiny platform with a railing, from which the great sails could be worked; they were back now, but the wind was rising, and they creaked and strained at their mooring rope. Far below the silver sheet of the Rhine moved sluggishly, gleaming in the moonlight. The blockhouses stood out sharply on either bank.

"Wonder if they can see us as plainly as we see them," Jim said.

"We'll have callers here presently if they can," Desmond said. "That, at least, is certain. Better come in, Jim."

Jim was looking at the great sails, and then at the rope that moored them.

"Wait half a minute," he said.

He dived into the mill, and returned almost instantly with a small coil of rope.

"I noticed this when we came up," he said. "It didn't seem long enough to be any use by itself, but if we tie it to this mooring-rope it might be long enough."

"To reach the ground from here?" Desmond asked him in astonishment.

"Never! You're dreaming, Jim."

"Not from here, of course," Jim said. "But from the end of the sail."

"The sail!" Desmond echoed.

"If we tie it to the end of the sail's rope, and let the mill go, we can swing out one at a time," Jim said. "Bit of a drop at the bottom, of course, but I don't think it would be too much, if we wait till our sail points straight down."

"But----" Desmond hesitated. "The sail may not bear any weight--neither may the rope itself."

"The ropes seem good enough--they're light, but strong," Jim said.

"As for the sail--well, it looks pretty tough; the framework is iron.

We can haul on it and test it a bit. I'd sooner risk it than be caught here, old man."

"Well--I'm going first," Desmond said.

"That you're not--it's my own little patent idea," Jim retorted.

"Just you play fair, you old reprobate. Look--they keep a sort of boathook thing here, to catch the rope when the arm is turning--very thoughtful and handy. You'll easily get it back with that."

He was knotting the two ropes as he spoke, testing them with all his strength.

"There--that will hold," he said. "Now we'll let her go."

He untied the mooring-rope, and very slowly the great sails began to revolve. They tugged violently as the arm bearing the rope mounted, and drew it back; it creaked and groaned, but the rope held, and nothing gave way. Jim turned his face to Desmond on the narrow platform.

"I'm off!" he said. "No end of a jolly lark, isn't it? Hold her till I get on the railing."

"Jim--if it's too short!"

"Well, I'll know all about that in a minute," said Jim with a short laugh. "So long, old chap: I'll be waiting below, to catch you when you bounce!"

He flung his legs over the railing, sitting upon it for an instant while he gripped the rope, twining his legs round it. Then he dropped off, sliding quickly down. Sick with suspense, Desmond leaned over to watch him.

Down--down he went. The mill-arms rose for a moment, and then checked as his weight came on them--and slowly--slowly, the great sail from which he dangled came back until it pointed straight downwards, with the clinging figure hanging far below. Down, until the man above could scarcely see him--and then the rope, released, suddenly sprang into the air, and the sails mounted, revolving as if to make up for lost time. On the gra.s.s below a figure capered madly. A low, triumphant whistle came up.

"Oh, thank G.o.d!" said Desmond. He clutched the boathook and leaned out, finding that his hands trembled so that the sails went round three times before he managed to catch the dangling rope. Then it was only a moment before he was on the gra.s.s beside Jim. They grinned at each other.

"You all right?" Jim asked.

"Oh, yes. It was pretty beastly seeing you go, though."

"It was only a ten-foot drop at the end," said Jim, casting his eye up at the creaking sails. "But it certainly was a nasty moment while one wondered if the old affair would hold. I don't believe it ever was made in Germany--it's too well done!"

"Well, praise the pigs we haven't got to tackle those barrels again!"

Desmond said. "Come along--we'll try and find a hole in the old fence."

They came out of the friendly shadow of the mill and trotted northwards, bending low as they ran; there was no cover on the flats, and the moonlight was all too clear, although friendly clouds darkened it from time to time. It was a windy night, with promise of rain before morning.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

The sharp German words rang out suddenly. Before them three soldiers seemed to have risen from the ground with levelled rifles.

Jim and Desmond gave a despairing gasp, and turned, ducking and twisting as they fled. Bullets whistled past them.

"Are you hit?" Jim called.

"No. Are you?"

"No. There's nothing but the river."

They raced on madly, their bare feet making no sound. Behind them the pursuit thudded, and occasionally a rifle cracked; not so much in the hope of hitting the twisting fugitives, as to warn the river sentries of their coming. The Germans were not hurrying; there was no escape, they knew! Father Rhine and his guardians would take care of their quarry.

Jim jogged up beside Desmond.

"We've just a chance," he said--"if we ever get to the river. You can swim under water?"

"Oh yes."

"Then keep as close to the bank as you can--the shots may go over you.

We'll get as near the blockhouses as we dare before we dive. Keep close."

He was the better runner, and he drew ahead, Desmond hard at his heels. The broad river gleamed in front--there were men with rifles silhouetted against its silver. Then a merciful cloud-bank drifted across the moon, and the shots whistled harmlessly in the sudden darkness. Jim felt the edge of the bank under his feet.

"Dive!" he called softly.