Phil followed him to the top of the stairway, and then returned hurriedly.
“He has got away, and has gone to call the nearest guard,” he cried in hurried tones. “Tumble out, you fellows. They will be back here in a quarter of an hour or less, and if we are to give them the slip, it must be now. What are you doing, Tony? Come here, you idiot!”
Tony crept from the chimney, into which he was in the act of climbing, and slunk back to his friend’s side abashed, and yet full of indignation.
“Going to leave that cabbage-eating French monkey?” he asked angrily. “What’s he done? Why, just spoilt all our chances; that’s all.”
“It is the very thing you will be doing, old man,” answered Phil. “Now, give me one of those bars, and keep one yourself. McNeil, I’m ready, if you are. Here is Stackanoff’s sword for you. As for that little coward, he has done all the harm he can possibly do us, so we will leave him to his own devices.”
They grasped their weapons, and Phil and Tony, placing themselves on either side of the wounded lieutenant to help him along, hurried out of the cell, up the stairs, and ran for a deep ditch which they had noticed as they were marched to prison. It seemed to be a trench constructed to command the rear of some of the fortifications, and for the moment would prove an excellent shelter.
“Listen, I hear the guard returning!” whispered McNeil, “and the bell that is ringing must be a warning to announce that prisoners have escaped. Whew! that was a nasty one!” he exclaimed a moment later, for the guard had advanced with a blazing torch to assist in the search, and, the street being visible from the British trenches, and the range known to a nicety, a shell had been pitched with precision just in front of the group. The torch was instantly extinguished and all was darkness again, but the sound of distant marching, and an occasional order sharply given, proved that troops were being hastened from their quarters to patrol the streets and cut off the escaping prisoners.
“They know that the harbour is our only chance,” said Phil bitterly. “I fear it looks like failure this time, McNeil.”
“It does look bad,” agreed the latter sadly. “What hard luck, when we had all set our hearts so much upon it!”
“Are you game to try the other way?” asked Phil eagerly.