d from going on the
special duty for which the party had been formed. Then, too, Tom's
misadventure had given them a hearty laugh, and laughs were something
to be prized in their arduous life.

After reaching the camp, Tom was taken before an officer for
examination. But the officer was busy and preoccupied, and the
questioning was largely a matter of form. Tom was vague or dense as
the case demanded, and the impatient officer curtly ordered him to be
thrust in with the other prisoners and promptly proceeded to forget him.

Tom passed through several stages of emotion when he was left to
himself. First he moped, and then he raged. Then, as the comical side
of the situation forced itself even upon his misery, he laughed.

A proverb says that "the man is not wholly lost who can laugh at his
own misfortunes." Tom laughed and immediately felt better. His
natural buoyancy reasserted itself. But he had imbibed a prejudice
against alarm clocks that promised to last for the rest of his life.

The sector was a quiet one and Tom was not sent out to work under shell
fire. For a few days he was left unmolested to the tedium of prison
life, and he began with renewed zest to formulate plans for his escape.

He had a chance also to become more or less acquainted with his
fellow-prisoners. There were not many and Tom reflected with
satisfaction that the Americans held more German prisoners than the
Huns had captured of his own countrymen.

There was a sprinkling of nationalities. There were a few American and
British, but the majority were French and Belgians.

About the only French prisoner that Tom grew to know intimately was one
who could speak English fairly well. This he explained was due to the
fact that the man in whose employ he had been as a butler had a
daughter who had married an American, and English had been much spoken
in the household.

"What part of France do you come from?" asked Tom one day, when they
were chatting together.

"From Auvergne," answered the Frenchman, whose name was Martel. "Ah,"
he continued wistfully, "what would I not give to see the gardens and
vineyards of Auvergne again! But I never will."

"Sure you will," said Tom cheerily. "Brace up, Martel. You won't stay
in this old hole forever."

Martel shook his head.

"I'm doomed," he said. "I was in the first stage of consumption when I
came here, and the disease is gripping me more tightly every day.
Perhaps it's a judgme