at, could "Bairnsfather" view one such episode,
our bookstalls would shortly be surrounded by eager crowds, clamouring
for the first edition of "Fragments from Germany," depicting
mud-bespattered "Old Bills" crawling for their very lives down narrow
tunnels, closely pursued by the wily Hun!

About this time I made my second attempt to escape, and succeeded in
getting outside the wire for the time being, early one afternoon
during bathing hours, only to discover that my proposed hiding-place
was occupied by Germans. After sitting solemnly beside my kit for an
hour, expecting discovery every second, I was lucky enough to return,
unmolested, with a party of bathers. During this period of anxious
waiting I was surprised to find that the thought of losing my
carefully prepared outfit was considerably more distressing than the
actual prospect of imprisonment.

CHAPTER IX

"AN OUTLAW ONCE AGAIN"

When a sufficient number of officers had collected for baths at a
little gate, a sentry allowed them to pass through it and along a
short, wired path, or bird-cage (as we called it), and thence into the
bath-room. This room was situated about ten yards outside the wire, in
the middle of a wooden barrack, running parallel to, and about fifteen
yards away from, the wire. It is subdivided to form a dressing-room
and a place for the shower baths, every exit being strongly barred,
and a sentry stationed at the door. After a minute inspection of every
nook and cranny, I found that it was just possible, by standing
upright, to squeeze into an alcove, about eleven inches deep and a
foot wide, in an angle formed by a wall and the brickwork of a chimney
which projected into the room.

Though in full view of the door, it was partially hidden behind an
empty stove. I reasoned that, should a well-made dummy wall obscure
the aperture, it would take a very observant sentry to detect anything
amiss. As a last resource, even should it be noticed, it might pass as
something to do with the heating of the adjacent room. After weighing
up the chances of success for several days, I decided that it was
worth trying. When the measurements had been taken, behind the Bosch's
back, I set to work to manufacture the false wall.

Most of my friends ridiculed the idea, calling my pet wall a doll's
house and other insulting names, and bestowing on me much superfluous
sympathy and pity. They argued