It was Schlickeisen and Wienersdorf continuing their interrupted conversation beneath their breath. [[23]]
“I repeat,” observed the former, “I cannot endure this life any longer!”
“Hush!” whispered his companion. “Don’t get so excited. We can’t hurry, so be patient.”
“That is all you can say. Patience! We have been here two months already and how far are we advanced?”
“How can we help it? One cannot break iron with his hands. You know that our enterprise is one in which we risk our necks.”
“Quite so. Still if this should last much longer, I intend to take a leap into the river.”
“That would be a treat for the crocodiles; but all the same it would be a poor way of gaining your liberty, unless you look upon death as your only possible liberator.”
“Well I would rather be dead than remain a prisoner like this.”
“But ‘dead is dead.’ I must own that I prefer——”
Schlickeisen had no time to finish the sentence. Some one had crept unperceived between their beds. Two hands were pressed upon their shoulders as if to compel them to remain passive. Then a voice whispered in the softest accents: