It was hard, he
could not help thinking, but----

"_Get ready!_"

Those words, spoken in English, sounded in his ears. They seemed uttered
in the sing-song tones he knew so well, in which the starter of a rowing
contest prepared to send off the crews waiting in eager readiness before
him. Max looked curiously about him. He knew he must be dreaming, and
yet he had not been conscious at that moment of dreaming of the old days
at Hawkesley. How far away they seemed--and how jolly--he would never
know such glorious times again. A fresh wave of new regrets passed
through his mind. It was----

"_Are you ready?_"

This time Max looked more sharply about him. He was not dreaming, he was
sure now. The words had certainly been uttered, and again in the
sing-song of the Hawkesley starter. No one but Dale could have uttered
them, and Dale it must be. Where was he?

A man carrying a big packing-case was at the side of the road on his
right a dozen yards or so ahead. The packing-case hid his face, but his
gait seemed somewhat familiar even while moving under his burden. He was
slanting towards the prisoner's escort, the foremost of whom had now
reached the outer edge of the big crowd assembled outside the gates.

What did the words mean? What but that he was to act as though the
greatest contest of his life was before him--aye, one with his very life
for the prize! The zest for life, the deep-rooted objection to give up
his task half done, the old sporting instinct to battle to the very
finish, all combined to brace Max's nerve to a point at which nothing
was impossible. Ready?--aye, he was ready and more than ready--all he
waited for was the signal he knew was close at hand.

Suddenly something dark flew through the air. Ere it touched the ground
another and another followed. Three tremendous explosions took place at
the very feet of the men of his escort in front of him. The officer and
four of the men fell to the ground, and escort and crowd surged back and
away in all directions.

"_Go!_"

Like a shot from a gun, Max dived into the crowd on his right. Not a man
of his escort put out a hand to stop him. The surprise was complete, and
in an instant Max was in the midst of the crowd of men already on the
move, flying in terror from the scene of the fearful explosions which
had killed five of the soldiers and injured others as well as some of
the nearest of the crowd. Four more explosions followed hard on his
heels, just