d the soldier downstairs, and found himself the
prisoner in an impromptu sort of court-martial.

Really, it wasn't as bad as that. Considering that he had no passports
and nothing, in fact, to show who he was, and that no responsible person
could vouch for him, he was very lucky. It was because he was a boy, and
obviously an American boy, that he got off so easily. For after he had
answered a few questions, a major explained the situation to him very
punctiliously.

"You must be detained here for two or three days," said the major. "This
is an important concentration district, and many things will happen that
no foreigner can be allowed to see. We believe absolutely that you are
not unfriendly, and that you have no intention of reporting anything you
might chance to learn to an enemy. But in time of war we may not take
any risks, and you will, therefore, be required to remain in this
village under observation.

"Within the village limits you will be as free as if you were at home,
in your own country. You will not be allowed to pass them, however, and
if you try to do so a sentry will shoot you. As soon as certain
movements are completed, you will be at liberty to pass on, on your way
to Koenigsberg. I will add to Lieutenant Ernst's advice. When you reach
Koenigsberg, after you have reported yourself to the police, wait there
until a train can take you to Berlin. It will mean only a few days of
waiting, for at Koenigsberg there are already many refugees, and the
authorities want to get them to Berlin as soon as the movements of troop
trains allow the railway to be reopened for passenger traffic."

Fred agreed to all this. There was nothing else for him to do, for one
thing, and, for another, he was by no means unwilling to see whatever
there might be to be seen here. He could guess by this time that without
any design he had stumbled on a spot that was reckoned rather important
by the Germans, for the time being at least, and he had heard enough
about the wonderful efficiency of the German army to be anxious to see
that mighty machine in the act of getting ready to move.

He did see a good deal, as a matter of fact, that day and the next. It
was on the famous Saturday night of the first of August that he had left
Virballen. Sunday brought news of a clash with France, far away on the
western border, and of the German invasion of Belgium. Monday brought
word of a definite declaration of war between Germany and France,