They broke into a steady run. The action was a relief after hours of slow trudging and sleepless, comfortless rest. Their pursuers also increased their pace, shouting for them to stop.
"We're holding our own," exclaimed Kenneth after a while.
"Can't keep it up, though," panted the corporal, who, to give himself greater freedom, had discarded his cloak. "But why don't the beggars fire?"
It seemed remarkable that their pursuers made no attempt to use their rifles. Some had already given up the chase, but others held on, streaming out into an irregular procession.
Ahead was a broad ditch. Kenneth, who was leading, braced himself to plunge through the coating of ice, but instead his feet slipped and he rolled sideways to the farthermost bank. His companions crossed more easily, for owing to the severe frost the water was covered with two inches of ice.
Rollo and the corporal assisted Everest to his feet. He was unhurt, but wellnigh breathless. During this episode the leading Germans were within fifty yards of them; but unaccountably they slackened their pace, stopping at the edge of the frozen ditch and shouting frantically at the fugitives.
"That's done it!" exclaimed the Fusilier.
In extended order a number of soldiers, some mounted, emerged from the shelter of a row of trees on the opposite side of the field, and stood waiting to receive the exhausted Englishmen. Escape was impossible. There was no cover either to the right or the left. Behind them were their pursuers; in front the troops, including cavalry.
"We've had a run for our money," remarked the corporal, as he raised his arms above his head in token of surrender. His companions noticed that, in spite of his dejection, the man never blamed them for suggesting a course that ended in recapture.
The Germans behind them still made no further attempt to advance. They stood in a row at the edge of the ditch, bawling unintelligibly.