"Rather. That barbed wire entanglement contains a highly charged electric cable. The current is switched on every night and off again in the morning. The Huns were particularly gleeful in informing us of the cheerful fact. Then there are those mastiffs to take into consideration, so you see there's little chance of success. On the other hand, failure, even if one does escape the dangers I have mentioned, means forty days' solitary confinement. Danvers, of the submarine service, tried it, and he swears it's almost worse than being buried alive. He was a physical and moral wreck when he turned up amongst us again."
"So you think it's no go?"
"My dear fellow," said Fuller, "you have my best wishes, and I believe those of the rest of us here. But that won't help you. Nothing short of an earthquake or a few tins of explosives will clear a way until the Allies beat the strafed Huns absolutely to their knees. That's my opinion, but I may be wrong. In any case, if there's the faintest possible chance, I'm on it."
"Then we'll call it a bargain?"
Without speaking a word Fuller extended his hand. The two men exchanged grips that formed a mutual understanding.
Then Tressidar turned in. For a long time he tossed uneasily on his hard straw mattress. Already captivity was weighing heavily on him, and as yet he had been but a few hours in the hands of the Huns.
CHAPTER XVII
A DASH FOR LIBERTY
Day after day, night after night passed with almost intolerable tediousness. The meagre fare, uncomfortable quarters, their motley clothing, the jeers and taunts of their goalers—all these discomforts, unpleasant though they were, could be borne with fortitude bordering on equanimity. It was the dearth of news and the enforced inactivity that weighed so heavily upon the captive British officers.