A FORCED LANDING
'For goodness' sake keep them quiet!' gasped Trentham, clambering up among the boulders to the top of the slope. The native prisoners, hysterical in their joy, were laughing and shouting and smacking their thighs.
'Say, Lafoa,' said Hoole, 'tell that chief of yours to stop the hullabaloo. Black fella no talkee this time.'
Flanso gathered his men together, and reduced the hubbub somewhat. Meanwhile Trentham had gained the top.
'We must get out of reach at once,' he said. 'The searchlight's no good to them now, nor the machine-gun; but if these fellows make such a row the Germans will track us.'
'We make for the village?' asked Hoole.
'Not directly; the Germans are sure to put men on the paths. But I fancy they won't risk a regular pursuit in the dark, and if we get away from the coast and avoid the direct route to the village, we shall at any rate not run into them. How 's Meek?'
'Just alive, sir, that's all I can say,' replied Grinson. 'What they 've been doing to him----'
'Can he walk?' Trentham interrupted.
'Says he ain't got no feeling in his legs. But what's the odds? I 'll heave him across my back. Lucky you 're lean, Ephraim, me lad!'