on the trigger of his gun, and he decided to remain
where he was.

In about half an hour the two men reappeared on the platform of the car.
Simultaneously the window of the carriage in which they had been sitting
was opened, and the third man was visible, standing before a small table
and arranging some papers. Suddenly he was called from outside. He
thrust his hat upon the papers, and hastened to obey the summons.

A little gust of breeze from the opening and closing of the door
detached one of the sheets of paper from the restraining weight of the
hat. It fluttered out of the window and lay for a moment upon the side
of the track. No one noticed it, and in a second or two it fluttered
underneath the clump of bracken behind which the young Englishman was
hiding. He thrust out his hand and calmly secured it.

In less than five minutes the place was deserted. Amidst many hasty
farewells, wholly unintelligible to the watcher, the two groups of men
separated and climbed into their respective trains. As soon as every one
was out of sight the Englishman rose with a little grunt of satisfaction
and stretched himself.

He glanced first at the sheet of paper, and finding it written in German
thrust it into his pocket. Then he commenced an anxious search for
smoking materials, and eventually produced a pipe, a crumpled packet of
tobacco, and two matches.

"Thank Heaven!" he exclaimed, lighting up. "And now for a tramp."

He plodded steadily along the track for an hour or more. All the time he
was in the heart of the forest. Pheasants and rabbits and squirrels
continually crossed in front of him. Once a train passed, and an excited
guard shouted threats and warnings, to which he replied in fluent but
ineffective English.

"Johnnies seem to think I'm trespassing!" he remarked to himself in an
aggrieved tone. "I can't help being on their beastly line!"

Tall, smooth-faced, and fair, he walked with the long step and lightsome
grace of the athletic young Englishman of his day. He was well dressed
in tweed clothes, cut by a good tailor, a little creased by his night
out of doors, but otherwise immaculate. He hummed a popular air to
himself, and held his head high. If only he were not so hungry.

Then he came to a station. It was little more than a few rows of planks,
with a chalet at one end--but a very welcome sight confronted him. A
little pile of luggage, with his initials, G. P., was on the end of the
platform nearest to