n" _read_ "Pueppchen."

P. 159, line 16, _for_ "Briefeasten" _read_ "Briefkasten."

"BROTHER BOSCH"

(An Airman's Capture and subsequent
Escape from Germany)

CHAPTER I

CAPTURED

It was November 9th, 1916. I lay in a state of luxurious
semi-consciousness pondering contentedly over things in general,
transforming utter impossibilities into plausible possibilities,
wondering lazily the while if I were asleep. Presently, to my disgust
an indefinable, yet persistent "something" came into being, almost
threatening to dispel the drowsy mist then pervading my brain. The
slow thought waves gradually ceased their surging, and after a slight
pause began to collect round the offending mystery, as if seeking to
unravel it in a half-hearted sort of way. They gave me to understand
that the "something" recurred at intervals, and even suggested that it
might be a voice, though from which side of the elastic dividing line
it emanated they were quite unable to say. With the consoling thought
that voices often come from dreamland I allowed the whole subject to
glide gently into the void and the tide of thought to continue its
drugged revolutions. The next instant a noisy whirlwind swept the
cobwebs away. I knew that the voice was indeed a reality, for it
delivered the following message: "A very fine morning, sir!" Obviously
my dutiful servant desired me to rise and enjoy the full benefit of
the beautiful day. Agreeing with Harry Lauder, that "It's nice to get
up in the morning, but it's nicer to stay in bed!" I am sorry to say I
cunningly dismissed the orderly with a few false assurances, turned
over on my side and promptly forgot all about such trivial matters.
Conscience was kicking very feebly, and just as sleep was about to
return, the air commenced to vibrate and something swept overhead with
a whirling roar--an "early bird" testing the air. Galvanised into
action by this knowledge, I sprang out of bed, and seizing whatever
garments happened to be the nearest, was half dressed before I had
even time to yawn! Then snatching up my map, coat, hat, and goggles, I
burst from the hut and began slithering along the duck-boards towards
the hangars, at the same time endeavouring to fasten the unwilling
hooks of my Flying Corps tunic and devoutly hoping that I should not
be late for the