red the path to Berlin." O'Malley grinned
eagerly. "I'm glad ye're feelin' foine now. We have to get out o' this
hole."

Stan looked up at the high, barred windows. "Yes, we do," he said, more
to encourage O'Malley than because he had any hopes. They were deep in
the heart of Germany and soon would be in a closely guarded prison camp.

"They're takin' us to another prison in a few minutes. The guard says we
get to eat before we're locked up again. We have to be questioned by the
Gestapo." O'Malley leered angrily.

"You mean German Intelligence," Stan corrected.

"All the same. Himmler runs 'em both," O'Malley answered.

They were interrupted by a shout from the hallway. A burly German
officer stamped into the room and stood looking at the men.

"Get to your feet!" he yelled.

The men slowly rose and stared at the officer. He glared at them, his
eyes moving over them slowly.

"You should be treated as swine, you bomb cities and kill
non-combatants. Der Fuehrer does not like this," he snarled.

"We are only following the example you set at Warsaw and Rotterdam," a
British major said as he stepped over and faced the German. "We are
prisoners of war and you'll treat us as such, my fine fellow."

Stan moved forward quickly. The R.A.F. major stood with his feet planted
well apart, facing the German. The German lashed out suddenly with a
knotted fist. The major swayed a bit and ducked the blow. He started a
right cross for the German's jaw but Stan dived in and pinned his arms.

"Swine! Dog!" the German bellowed. "You will pay for this."

"Take it easy. Knocking his block off won't help you any," Stan said as
he released the major's arms. "There ought to be better ways."

"I'm sorry," the major said stiffly.

The German glared around him. He puffed out his chest and struck a stiff
pose.

"You are to be moved to other quarters. Anyone trying any sneaking
business will be shot. Is dot clear?"

"It's clear. Get on with the moving," Stan said crisply.

"You better be after feedin' us," O'Malley broke in.

The officer blew a whistle and a squad of soldiers filed in. The men
lined up and the officer began splitting the prisoners up into small
groups. He sent six men away with the guards and whistled for another
squad.

"They must think we're tough," Stan said and grinned.

Before Stan and O'Malley were sent out, a young lieutenant entered and
spoke to the officer in charge. He faced the remaining men.

"Lie