'I saw him drop something—I saw it fall. There—there it is.'
Hurrying on for about fifty yards, he stooped swiftly and picked up something small but heavy.
'The daisy! Oh, the daisy!' panted Roy. 'I'll love that fellow to the end of my life.'
He held up the object which the airman had flung down. It was a hammer and a cold chisel tied together, with a leaf from a notebook under the string.
There was an ancient olive tree against the far wall of the vineyard. Cowering under its shelter, Roy tore the string off with his strong white teeth, then picked up the paper. These were the hurried words scrawled in pencil:— 'Sorry! All we can do for you. Make east. Your only chance.'
'East? That means the Straits. Why is that our only chance?' muttered Ken.
'Never mind that now,' Roy answered hastily. 'We must get our hands free. Confound it! We can't use the chisel. But here's a stone with a sharp edge. Try what you can do with the hammer, Ken.'
Ken took one quick glance in the direction of the village, but there was no one in sight. He caught hold of the hammer in both hands and brought it down with all his force on the link between Roy's handcuffs.
More by chance than skill the blow fell absolutely true, and the steel, either flawed or over-tempered, snapped.
Roy gave a cry of delight, and snatching the hammer from Ken took up the chisel and set to work on his bonds. His powerful hands made short work of the link, and within less than three minutes from the time the man in the plane had dropped the tools, they were both free.