patrolled the narrow streets.

They quitted the town to the north-west, near the Oliva Gate. There was
no guard-house here because Langfuhr was held by the French, and Rapp's
outposts were three miles out on the road to Zoppot.

"I have played this game for fifty years," said Barlasch, with a low
laugh, when they reached the earthworks, completed, at such enormous
cost of life and strength, by Rapp; "follow me and do as I do. When I
stoop, stoop; when I crawl, crawl; when I run, run."

For he was a soldier now and nothing else. He stood erect, and looked
round him with the air of a young man--ready, keen, alert. Then he moved
forward with confidence towards the high land which terminates in the
Johannesberg, where the peaceful Dantzigers now repair on a Sunday
afternoon to drink thin beer and admire the view.

Below them on the right hand lay the marshes, a white expanse of snow
with a single dark line drawn across it--the Langfuhr road with its
double border of trees.

Barlasch turned once or twice to make sure that Desiree was following
him; but he added nothing to his brief instructions. When he gained
the summit of the tableland which runs parallel with the coast and the
Langfuhr road, he paused for breath.

"When I crawl, crawl. When I run, run," he whispered again; and led the
way. He went up the bed of a stream, turning his back to the coast, and
at a certain point stopped and by a gesture of the hand bade Desiree
crouch down and wait till he returned. He came back and signed to her
to quit the bed of the stream and follow him. When she came up to the
tableland, she found that they were quite close to a camp-fire. Through
the low pines she could perceive the dark outline of a house.

"Now run," whispered Barlasch, leading the way across an open space
which seemed to extend to the line of the horizon. Without looking back,
Desiree ran--her only thought was a sudden surprise that Barlasch could
move so quickly and silently.

When he gained the shelter of some trees, he threw himself down on the
snow, and Desiree coming up to him found him breathlessly holding his
sides and laughing aloud.

"We are through the lines," he gasped, "name of a dog, I was so
frightened. There they go--pam! pam! Buz.. z.. z.."

And he imitated the singing buzz of the bullets humming through the
trees over their heads. For half a dozen shots were fired, while he was
yet speaking, from behind the camp-fires. There were no more,