With an exclamation of dismay and astonishment the German stooped over the body of the insensible soldier. Others came running up, and in the darkness one called attention to a dark object fifty yards or so from him, moving cautiously in the direction of the lighthouse.
Half a dozen shots rang out. The object, whatever it was, gave a convulsive spring and collapsed, kicking in its death agonies.
Off ran the sentries to investigate. They had shot a goat that had strayed from one of the adjacent gardens!
This diversion enabled the fugitives to gain the fence without detection, wriggle under the lowermost barbed wire, and find a temporary respite on the unpatrolled area between the entanglement and the brink of the Zeppelin pit.
With considerable difficulty the American located the topmost rungs of one of the vertical ladders.
"Guess I'll go first," he whispered. "You feel game?"
"Yes," replied the Sub grimly, yet he knew that he had hardly an ounce of strength left.
"Follow on," continued Detroit. "If you feel fagged, give me the word and I'll hang on to you while you rest."
Although the descent entailed considerable less exertion than the ascent a few hours before, Hamerton could hardly retain his grasp upon the slippery steel rungs. His downward motion was purely mechanical. His joints seemed so stiff that a sharp racking pain shot through his shoulders every time he lowered an arm to find the next rung.
"Here's the horizontal platform," whispered Detroit. "We'll rest awhile."