and shrieking women, to whom not even the dying were sacred.

It was a terrible tale, that lost nothing of its horror from the simple,
unadorned style of this West Country farmer's son. He had been one of
the ragged, emaciated band of British prisoners of war who had shivered
through that first long winter in the starvation camp of Friedrichsfeld,
near Wesel. For two years he had endured the filthy food, the neglect,
the harsh treatment, then a resourceful Belgian friend, whom he called
John, in happier days a contraband runner on this very frontier, had
shown him a means to escape. Five days before they had left the camp and
separated, agreeing to meet at Charlemagne's Ride in the forest and try
to force the frontier together. "John" had never come. For twenty-four
hours Maggs had waited in vain, then his courage had forsaken him, and
he had crept to that hole in his grief.

I went and fetched Francis and Monica. Maggs shrunk back as they came
in.

"I bean't fit cumpany for no lady, zur," he whispered to me, "I be that
durty, fair crawling I be ... We couldn't keep clean nohow in that camp!"

All the good soldier's horror of dirt was in his voice.

"That's all right, Maggs," I answered soothingly, "she'll understand!"

We sat down on the floor in the light of Sapper Maggs' candle, and
Francis and I reviewed our situation. The cave we were in ... an old
Smuggler's _cache_ ... was where Francis had spent several days during
his different attempts to get across the frontier. The border line was
only about a quarter of a mile distant and ran right through the forest.
There was no live-wire fencing in the forest, such as the Germans have
erected along the frontier between Holland and Belgium. The frontier was
guarded by patrols. These patrols were posted four men to every two
hundred yards along the line through the forest, so that two men,
patrolling in pairs, covered a hundred yards apiece.

It was now half-past five in the evening. We both agreed that we should
certainly make the attempt to cross the frontier that night. Francis
nudged me, indicating the sapper with his eyes.

"Maggs," I said, "we are all in a bad way, but our case is more
desperate than yours. I shall not tell you more than this, that, if we
are caught, any of us three, we shall be shot, and anyone caught with us
will fare the same. If you will take my advice, you will leave us and
start off by yourself: the worst that can happen to you is to b