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Faraday might have argued further, trying to convince his buddy not to risk it, but Mr. Suey approached and poked Faraday sharply in the ribs with a swagger stick. He shouted something in Japanese that Faraday took to mean, “Shut the hell up!”

Lucky stepped up beside the Filipino prisoner whom the commandant had singled out. The Filipino turned as if to go back into formation, but Mr. Suey was there to take his arm and stop him.

“You both go,” the commandant said. He stepped off to one side and nocked an arrow. The metal tip gleamed wickedly in the sun.

Lucky crouched like a sprinter, awaiting the signal. The Filipino still looked as if there was anything else that he would prefer doing. Finally, he made the sign of the cross and followed Lucky’s lead by getting into a sprinter’s crouch.

Among the prisoners, it was so quiet that you could have heard a pin drop. Faraday realized that he was holding his breath. He was sure that the thickness of the tropical air would weigh Lucky down.

The distance to the open gates was no more than three hundred feet, all of it across dusty, open ground. Essentially, Lucky was making a one-hundred-yard dash like they had done in training. Fifteen seconds had been considered a good time when they had been fit and well fed. How long would it take Lucky now? And how many arrows could the commandant let loose in that same time frame?

Lucky didn’t bother waiting for a signal, but took off running. He seemed to explode from the spot, racing away across the prison yard and quickly outpacing the other man trailing him. For the first time, Faraday actually felt hopeful. Maybe Lucky could pull it off.

Unable to help themselves, some of the prisoners began shouting encouragement. “Go! Go, Lucky!”

The Japanese soldiers got in on the act, shouting what sounded like jeers.

The two runners had taken different strategies. Lucky zigzagged from side to side, suddenly changing direction. It would take him longer to cross the open ground, but it made him a more difficult target. The other prisoner ran flat out in a straight line. In seconds, both men had covered half the distance to the open gates. The shouting from both sides grew more intense.

Colonel Yamagata drew his bow, held the string briefly by his ear, then released. The arrow sang through the air and just missed Lucky, who dodged out of the way at the last instant. Faraday had the thought that Yamagata was discovering that moving targets were much harder to hit than a stationary bull’s-eye.

“Run!” Faraday shouted.

The commandant drew back again, this time having to elevate his aim as the distance between him and the runners increased. When he released, the arrow had so much energy that Faraday could clearly hear the hiss it made leaving Yamagata’s bow.

This time, Yamagata had been aiming at the Filipino. The arrow arced up, then sank back down in a blur of motion, somehow seeming to gain speed as it did so. In the next instant, the arrowhead buried itself in the Filipino’s back. The man fell to his knees and managed to crawl a few feet before collapsing and lying still in the dirt.

Lucky was still running, his feet churning toward the gates that now seemed so close, almost within reach.

Faraday couldn’t believe it. He’s going to make it. He’s actually going to escape. Around him, the other prisoners shouted wildly.

Off to the side, Colonel Yamagata nocked another arrow and drew back his bow. He pulled the string back well past his ear and held it there. The tip of the arrow pointed high into the air. Though powerful, his arms shook slightly with the strain, but he took his time aiming. Then the bow string was released with a sharp twang, and the arrow hissed skyward.

At first assessment, the arc appeared too high, as if Yamagata had overshot his mark. Beneath the falling arrow, Lucky juked and dodged. He had almost reached the gates. In seconds, he would be home free.

The arrow struck, piercing Lucky just below his left shoulder blade. He kept running at first, then went down to his knees. The gate was right there.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Faraday urged under his breath, hoping against hope that his buddy would still be able to make it through the gate.

Lucky had gone to his hands and knees, leaving a trail of blood in the dirt. Then he collapsed to his belly but kept going, dragging himself toward the gate, unwilling to give up.

Mr. Suey was crossing the prison yard now. He paused long enough to check the still body of the Filipino prisoner, then kept going. Lucky was barely moving now, spread eagle in the dirt, almost like a swimmer trying to tread water but going nowhere.

The Japanese sergeant unsnapped the flap of the pistol on his hip, drew the weapon, and pointed it down at Lucky. Faraday turned away but winced at the sharp report of the pistol.

Colonel Yamagata handed his bow to Lieutenant Osako, who looked almost as stunned as the prisoners. The commandant raised his voice to address the POWs.