e individuals--an oldish man in delicate health,
his daughter, perhaps, and another, a big fellow, ostensibly an
attendant. Yet, whatever plans they may have thought out, whatever
intentions they may have had, were suspended for a while, seeing that
the train did not halt but ran on for quite a considerable time, indeed
until dusk had fallen. Nor was it until darkness had fallen and the
evening had passed that it finally ran into the outskirts of a large
town, where presently the brakes gripped the wheels, setting them
skidding over the metals, and soon bringing the carriages to a
standstill. Then the train began to back, and presently was brought to
rest in a siding.

"Out we go," said Henri. "No one has seen us up to date, and therefore
all we can say is that we have still plenty of chances of escaping; we
are no worse off than we were certainly, and perhaps we're better off.
At any rate, speaking personally, I've still every intention of
clearing out of Germany."

CHAPTER VII

A Friend in Need

"Half a mo'! What's that? Looks like a regular haystack," grunted
Stuart, as he dropped from the train and stood in the fairway, one hand
held out in front of him, and a ponderous finger pointing into the
darkness.

"What's what? Oh, that!--that! Yes, it looks like a haystack,"
admitted Jules, following the direction of his indicating finger.

"On wheels! A hay-load on a truck," suggested Henri, peering into the
gloom, and seeing the ghostly outline of twenty or more trucks which
stood upon the rails in a siding quite close to them. "A truck of hay,
Stuart--hay!"

"Or straw," growled the huge Englishman. "Well, what of it? What's it
matter to us if it's straw or hay, or any sort of thing? What's
anything matter, so long as it don't help us?"

He was in quite an irritable mood, and his voice sounded as though he
were ready to quarrel with anyone on the smallest pretext. It was
therefore with an exclamation of impatience that he realized that
Henri, with quick impulsiveness, had gripped him by the arm and was
shaking him eagerly.

"What's--what's up then?" he demanded peevishly; and then, looking in
the direction in which the Frenchman was now pointing, grumbled loudly:
"Still on about that hay or straw? You're wasting time, Henri."

"Idiot!" the impulsive Frenchman told him. "Haven't you heard of
Germans hiding up in a hayrick--hiding as spies? It's a chance; let's
take it. Get your knife r