"You said you were thirsty," continued Peter grimly. "Now's your chance. Overboard and hang to the rudder."
Silently the fugitives lowered themselves into the water, and, swimming cautiously, gained the slight protection afforded by the bluff overhang of the boat's quarter and long, projecting rudder. Hanging on to a chain, and keeping in the shadow, the brothers awaited developments, knowing that if the now open entrance to their dug-out were spotted, suspicion would be diverted from the marauders to them. Since the news of the escape of a numerous body of prisoners from Düren must have been sent far and wide, the inference that the barge had been a hiding-place for some of their number was obvious.
Up came the two watchmen, breathing stentorously, for they were middle-aged and corpulent. They were in uniform; each was armed with an air-rifle and a short sword.
Malcolm could hear them walking along the barge, testing the locks of the fore and after cuddies, and examining the metal fittings of the winch and the tiller-head. One of the men even flashed an electric torch over the side, but it was a purely perfunctory action. Meanwhile the dog was sniffing on the track of the would-be thieves, and made no attempt to go farther than the spot where the men had been brought up by the canal official's hail.
Finally, after a considerable amount of argument, the watchmen whistled the dog, regained the tow-path, and walked briskly in the direction the marauders had gone.
"Peter," whispered his brother, "I'm a silly ass!"
"Eh?"
"I forgot about my ration when I went overboard. It's sopping wet."
"So's mine," added Peter. "I took mine deliberately. It couldn't be helped. If we'd left the stuff on the barge that dog would have discovered it. A packet with the word 'London' printed on it would give the show away absolutely. For one thing, the stuff's been soaking in fresh water."
"And so have I," rejoined Malcolm. "At any rate, my thirst is quenched, and we have to spend the rest of the night in wet clothes."