did not seem to be allowed, but a
tip soon settled that, and we all received large glasses of light
lager. The people in the hall were a funny-looking crowd but quite
amusing to watch, mostly drinking quantities of beer and regarding us
with sullen curiosity through the glass screen. The majority of the
men were ugly and square-headed, with closely-cropped hair, reminding
one of a group of convicts. Some of the girls, however, gave us
encouraging smiles.

When the bills were being settled up, there strode in an angry German
major, complete with helmet and sword, who entered into a violent
conversation with our unfortunate officer, who stood at the salute
most of the time. After making a noise like a dog fight he departed
with a final gesticulation in our direction. We did not know what the
row was about, but suppose that the officer in charge had been thus
strafed in public, either for bringing us there or allowing us to have
beer. At any rate, we were hurried out to await our train on the
platform. A small circle soon formed round us, largely made up of
sailors, whom we concluded must be on indefinite leave. As our train
was steaming up a civilian gave vent to his feelings by fixing his
evil eyes upon us and at the same time moving his lips with a deadly
purpose, cursing us inaudibly. I should never have thought a face
could express such condensed hatred. He must have been conversing with
his Satanic Master. However, as we only smiled sweetly in return, he
cannot have felt much satisfaction. Before getting into our train we
spent our last few _pfennigs_ buying sweets at an automatic slot
machine. The acquired sweets were wrapped in a paper covering, on
which different notices were printed, the majority were to this
effect: "Remember the shameful _Baralong_ outrage, in punishment for
which our airships shall devastate the Eastern Counties of England and
destroy London." We showed this to our guards, who firmly believed
that it would shortly come to pass, and could not understand our
amusement. A few minutes out from Cologne, as we went rushing over a
long iron bridge, we celebrated our crossing the Rhine by winding up
our watches and singing the popular song: "When we've wound up the
watch on the Rhine."

In the late afternoon the train passed through Essen, the blast
furnaces casting a lurid light on the surrounding country. Travelling
northwards we ran into snow, which, when we alighted was quite deep.
This was ou