Suddenly the deep boom of a heavy explosion rent the air. Instinctively the spy stopped and listened intently; but no crash of falling girders and masonry, nor the cries of hundreds of men hurtling to their doom, followed the initial roar.
Conscious of failure von Gobendorff broke into a string of oaths as he resumed his flight. The dog was beginning to become a hindrance, for hitherto it had followed well; but now it showed a strong disinclination to be urged at a rapid pace at the end of a chain.
Pulling out a revolver the spy eyed the animal with the intention of trusting to a bullet to sever the recalcitrant chain. At the sight of the weapon the St. Bernard's misgivings were roused, for with a deep growl the powerful brute backed, tugging viciously at the restraining links. Too late the spy thought of unbuckling the massive metal collar, for a warning growl from the muzzled brute let him know very effectively that the St. Bernard's motto was "Noli me tangere." One of the links snapped, and the dog sat down on its haunches while the spy retreated for several feet before subsiding upon the gnarled, and exposed root of a large tree.
Regaining his feet von Gobendorff took to his heels, wrapping the severed portion of the padlocked chain round his wrist as he ran. Before he had gone very far the St. Bernard came bounding to his side.
"Go back, you brute!" exclaimed the spy apprehensively. "Go home!"
Somewhat to his surprise the animal turned tail and ambled off. Just then came the sound of voices. Already his pursuers were on his trail.
Then the unpleasant thought occurred to him that perhaps the dog might be pressed into the service of the men on his track. He wished that he had risked the sound of a revolver shot and had put a bullet through the creature's brain. He had no love for man's best friend; in his youth he had been systematically cruel to animals, and the instinct still lingered. At the best he regarded a dog simply as a slave—an instrument: When no longer of use to him he would not have the slightest compunction in taking its life. It was only fear of discovery that stayed his hand.
Von Gobendorff was a fair athlete. He was especially good at long-distance running, and as he ran with his elbows pressed to his sides his footsteps made hardly any noise. He recognised the fact that it was necessary to avoid stepping on the dried twigs that lay athwart the path or to plunge recklessly through the brushwood.
Presently he came to a fairly wide brook. He hailed the sight with delight. For one thing the water would slake his thirst; for another he could throw the dog off the scent (supposing the animal turned against its temporary master) by wading up-stream.
Before he had waded ten yards he heard sounds of his pursuers coming straight ahead as well as on his left. It was an ominous sign, for they had evidently made their way through the wood on a broad front, and some had out-distanced the rest.