ing for it," Jim had said. "There's not an inch of
cover outside, and daylight will soon be here. We must empty two of
these things and get inside."

"And the dog?" Desmond had asked.

"Oh, we'll pickle Ponto."

Together they had managed it, though the barrels taxed all their
strength to move. The body of the bloodhound had been lowered into
the brown liquid; two of the others had been gradually emptied upon
the earthen floor. With the daylight they had crawled in, drawing the
sacking over them, to crouch, half-stifled through the long day,
trembling when a step came near, clenching their knives with a sick
resolve to sell their freedom dearly. It seemed incredible that they
had not been discovered; and now the package of food was the last
stroke of good luck.

"Well, blessings on Emil, or Fritz, or Ludwig, or whoever he was," Jim
said, eating luxuriously. "This is the best blow-out I've had
since--well, there isn't any since, there never was anything so good
before!"

"Never," agreed Desmond. "By George, I thought we were done when that
energetic gentleman wanted to begin overhauling the casks."

"Me too," said Jim. "Emil saved us there--good luck to him!"

They finished the last tiny crumb, and stood up.

"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 pass through,
even had they dared risk the noise of breaking their thick glass. 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 m