mong nations. You, my little Englisher!
Did the Fuehrer declare war on your country, or on France? No! They
declared war on him, on Germany. Listen to me! Don't you want peace?"

"Certainly,"' Freddy replied. Then he added, "At the right time."

"No, peace as soon as possible," the German said. "Now is the best time.
Before there is more bloodshed. You two boys can help bring this war to
an early end. You will be doing a favor to Germany's foes. Now, why not
be good boys and tell me the truth? Then everything will be fine."

Neither of the boys said a word. As for Dave, it all sounded as though
he were listening to a broken phonograph record. "Tell me the truth....
Tell me the truth.... Tell me the truth!" It was like the title of a
song. He sat silent and kept his eyes fixed on the huge map on the wall.
He stared at it hard and tried to memorize the dates he could read
there, and the names of the towns and cities, and the locations of the
pins and flags. One town on the map was well smudged by finger and thumb
marks. It was named Estalle and was close to the Belgian-German
frontier. He suddenly had a hunch that that was where they were. At
Estalle, close to the German frontier, but how far behind the advanced
German lines? He thought of the long ride in the motored transport last
night and his heart sank down toward his boots.

"Well, for the last time!" the German Colonel suddenly thundered. "Do
you tell me the truth?"

"For Heaven's sakes, we already have!" Freddy shouted at him. "We've
told you nothing but the truth a dozen times. What must we do to get you
to believe us?"

The German didn't answer at once. He slammed both hands down flat on the
desk, hoisted his huge bulk forward, and glared at them.

"Very well," he said. "I have tried to be gentle and kind with you,
because you are only young boys. But, you refuse my kindness. So, I
shall treat you as grown men. I shall have you both _shot_!"

CHAPTER SEVEN

_Shoot!_

If the roof had suddenly fallen down on top of his head Dave Dawson
could have not been more astonished or surprised. Shot? He gaped at the
German officer half expecting to see the man burst out laughing. Colonel
Stohl did not laugh, however. He remained leaning forward over the desk
and raking them with eyes that looked like twin cubes of ice.

"Shot?" Dave heard himself speak the word. "You can't shoot us. We
haven't done anything! Gee whiz, why do you want to shoot us?"

"Of