And clinging to the eaves for a second, he let himself drop.
Down—down he went, with great velocity, and finally struck upon something softer than mother earth, from which he tumbled end over end to the ground.
The following instant a wild, unearthly howl rent the night.
"Och! murther—murther!" shrieked a man's voice; "I'm kilt! I'm kilt! Och! Holy Vargin Mary save me!"
It was the Irishman's voice. It was upon him that Fritz had first alighted, and he was probably badly jarred up, for he continued to hop around and yell at the top of his voice.
To make matters worse, the door of the house opened, and Gregg and his followers came pouring out.
CHAPTER VI.
ON THE SCENT.
Fritz had been stunned a little, even after tumbling off from the yelping Irishman; still, he had sense enough to struggle to his feet on seeing the smugglers rush from the building.