"We can't get over--it's ended," gasped Rickerl.
"Yes, we can--follow," whispered Jack, and dashed straight into the river where it washed the base of the wall.
"Do exactly as I do. Follow close," urged Jack; and, wading to the edge of the wall, he felt along under the water for a moment, then knelt down, ducked his head, gave a wriggle, and disappeared. Rickerl followed him, kneeling and ducking his head. At the same moment he felt a powerful current pulling him forward, and, groping around under the shallow water, his hands encountered the rim of a large iron conduit. He stuck his head into it, gave himself a push, and shot through the short pipe into a deep pool on the other side of the wall, from which Jack dragged him dripping and exhausted.
"You are my prisoner!" said Jack, between his gasps. "Give me your sabre, Ricky--quick! Look yonder!" A loud explosion followed his words, and a column of smoke rose above the foliage of the vineyard before them.
"Artillery!" blurted out Rickerl, in amazement.
"French artillery--look out! Here come the franc-tireurs over the wall! Give me that sabre and run for the French lines--if you don't want to hang!" And, as Rickerl hesitated, with a scowl of hate at the franc-tireurs now swarming over the wall, Jack seized the sabre and jerked it violently from his hand.
"You're crazy!" he muttered. "Run for the batteries!--here, this way!"
A franc-tireur fired at them point-blank, and the bullet whistled between them. "Leave me. Give me my sabre," said Rickerl, in a low voice.
"Then we'll both stay."
"Leave me! I'll not hang, I tell you."
"No."
The franc-tireurs were running towards them.
"They'll kill us both. Here they come!"
"You stood by me--" said Jack, in a faint voice.
Rickerl looked him in the eyes, hesitated, and cried, "I surrender! Come on! Hurry, Jack--for your sister's sake!"