quirmed over the edge of the hogshead, dropped into the
roadway on the side of the truck away from the tavern, and, with
assumed carelessness, went on down the road.

A few rods brought him into the open country. He had not the least
idea where he was. In the gloom he could not tell which was north or
south or east or west. But for the moment he was free.

He made his way across some fields in the direction of a dark fringe of
woods. There he would find shelter for the present. It would be a
poor kind of shelter, but just then Tom asked nothing better. The day
would bring counsel.

For some days past he had been stowing away fragments from his scanty
meals in his pockets. They were only dry and mouldy crusts, but they
would at least sustain life.

Up in the streaming woods he hollowed out a place under a fallen tree.
He was drenched to the skin, but he was so exhausted with the strain he
had undergone that no bodily discomfort could prevent his falling
asleep.

When he awoke the rain had ceased and the sun was striking through the
branches of the trees. With the morning came new courage. He would
yet win through.

He studied the sun and got a general idea of the direction in which he
must go. He knew that the American lines lay to the south and west.
He could hear the distant thunder of the guns.

All that day he traveled in the friendly shadow of the woods. He did
not dare to approach a cottage or go to any of the peasants he could
see working in the fields. Some of them, he felt sure, would befriend
him, but at any moment he might come in contact with one of the
oppressors who held the land in their grip. He would take no chances.

His food was almost gone now although he had husbanded it with the
greatest care. But he tightened his belt and kept on.

On the morning of the second day he was crossing a small brook and was
just stepping up on the other side when a wet stone rolled beneath his
foot and threw him headlong. His head struck a jagged stump and he lay
there stunned.

When he regained consciousness, he found himself looking into the face
of a German officer who was amusing himself by kicking the youth.

"Awake, are you, Yankee pig?" the officer greeted him. "It's time. I
had half a mind to give you a bayonet thrust and put you to sleep
forever. You needn't tell me how you came here. I know. You're the
schweinhund that escaped two days ago. Here," he called to some of his
men,