ave to be free in order to
do the work demanded of him. And he was willing to match his keen
American wits against the heavy and slow-thinking guards who might
stand watch over him.

He soon reached the section where he was to work, and was set to
felling trees to make corduroy roads over which guns and supplies could
be brought up from the enemy's rear to the advanced lines.

He had never done that kind of work, and at first the tremendous
efforts demanded of him amounted to sheer physical torture. He was
hounded on unceasingly under the jibes and threats of his brutal
guards. Not half enough food was supplied, and he was forced to work
for sixteen and eighteen hours on a stretch.

But he had great reserves of youth and vitality to draw on, and he kept
on doggedly, his brain alert, his eyes wide open, his heart courageous,
looking for his opportunity.

On the third night his opportunity came.

CHAPTER VIII

FRYING-PAN TO FIRE

The third day of Tom's captivity had been more trying than the two that
preceded it.

A new piece of woodland had been ordered to be cleared and, as there
was a scarcity of labor, Tom had been taxed to even a greater degree
than usual. By the time night came, he was feeling utterly exhausted
and ready to drop.

But dusk brought him little relief, for he was told that he must keep
on by lantern light until ten o'clock, before he would be permitted to
stop.

His troubles were aggravated by the fact that this afternoon a change
of guards had brought him under the control of an especially brutal one
who made his life a burden by abuse.

His guard had ordered him into a thick part of the woods where the high
underbrush cut them off from the sight of other working parties a
hundred yards away. Here the German had seated himself comfortably on
a fallen tree while he watched his prisoner toil, occasionally hurling
a threat or epithet at him.

The guard's watch was out of order, and he had borrowed a small clock
from the mess room in order to know when the time came to report with
his prisoner at quarters. He had placed the clock in the light of the
lantern and kept looking at it frequently and yawning. It was plain
that he would welcome the hour that released him from his monotonous
duty.

The night was warm and the guard's gun was heavy. He stood it against
the tree, but within instant reach, and unbuckled his belt.

In working around the tree, Tom's foot as though by a