‘Fine!  Oh, fine!’ cried Roy.  ’That chap knows his business.  Gee, but I wish we were alongside him.’

’Much use that would be!  A plane can’t carry four.  But don’t you see?  He has spotted us.  Those bombs are meant to give us our chance.  It’s up to us to take it.  Hurry, Roy!  If we can reach that wood yonder, we may be able to hide till dark.’

To run at all with tied hands is no easy matter.  To make any sort of pace over rough ground, in such condition, is well-nigh impossible.  Yet Ken and Roy, knowing absolutely that their lives depended on reaching that wood before their disappearance was realised, did manage to run and to run pretty fast.

Once more they heard the crashing explosion of a bomb, then suddenly the sound of the plane grew louder until the engine rattled almost overhead.

Ken stopped and looked up.  The plane was passing no more than two hundred feet above them.

Over the edge of the fuselage a face appeared, a white dot framed in a khaki flying hood.  An arm was thrust out, something dropped from it.  There was a quick wave of a hand, then with the speed of a frightened wild duck, the plane shot away, came round in a finely banked curve, and disappeared in a south-easterly direction.

‘Roy!’ gasped Ken, breathless.  ‘Did you see that?’

‘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.