The test would come when taps was sounded and the German officer of the day, making his rounds of the barracks, would find ten men missing roll call.
Gerry then was lying on his face in the tunnel and passing back dirt which those in front of him excavated. Only by counting the drumming of his heart could he estimate the minutes passing, but he knew that the delay in the tunnel was longer than O'Malley had planned.
"Taps! Taps!" came the word from Lownes, at the prison end of the burrow, who had heard the German bugle blow. From forward, where O'Malley was digging, dirt kept coming back, and still more dirt. For the diggers had not dared to run the bore to the surface, nor, indeed,, near enough to the surface so that a sentinel, treading above, would break through. At best, therefore, O'Malley, who was finishing the bore, had a fair amount left to do.
"The alarm! The alarm!"
Gerry, gasping in the stifling air of the burrow, could not hear the bugle or the bells; the warning was passed to him by the man at his heels; and Gerry passed the alarm on to the heels at his head. The Germans knew now that men were missing; the camp guards were out, the police dogs let loose; sentinels would fire, without challenge, at anyone sighted outside of the barracks.
But from past the heels at Gerry's head a fresh, cool current of air was moving. He drew deep breaths, and as the heels crawled from him he thrust upon his elbows and crept after. The bore was open; O'Malley was out upon the ground. The heels ahead of Gerry altered to a hand, which reached into the burrow, caught Gerry's arm, and dragged him out. Kneeling at the edge of the hole,
