that our cards had taken effect was the
change in the soup. Since the first day of the trouble, it had been
absolutely worthless. Suddenly it went back to normal--or a little
better.

Suddenly, too, the running of the Russians stopped, although others
of them had come in. A tremendous house-cleaning began--they had us
scrubbing everything. The bunks were aired; the blankets hung on the
fence; the windows cleaned; the yard was polished by much sweeping.
Evidently some one was coming, and we hoped it was "the Admiral." At
the same time, the N.C.O.'s grew very polite to us, and one of them,
who had been particularly vicious with the Russians, actually bade me
"good-morning"--something entirely without precedent.

Every day, I think, they expected the Admiral, but it was two weeks
before he came. His visit was a relief to the Germans, but a distinct
disappointment to us. Apparently, the having of an English wife does
not change the heart of a German. It takes more than that. He did
not forbid the running of the Russians; only the bayonet must not be
used. The bayonet was bad form--it leaves marks. Perhaps the Admiral
took this stand in order to reinstate himself again in favor with the
military authorities, and anxious to show that his English wife had
not weakened him. He had the real stuff in him still--blood and iron!

* * *

The running of the Russians began again--but behind the trees, where
we could not see them... but we could hear...

There are some things it were well we could forget!

The running of the Russians ceased only when no more came in from the
farms. Those who had been put out came out of the _Revier_ in a day
or so--some in a few hours--pale and spiritless, and were sent back
to work again. They had the saddest-looking faces I ever saw--old
and wistful, some of them; others, gaping and vacant; some, wild and
staring. They would never resist again--they were surely broken! And
while these men would not do much for the "Fatherland" in the way of
heavy labor, they would do very well for exchanges!

[Illustration: Friedrichsfeld Prison-Camp in Summer]

CHAPTER XX

ONCE AGAIN!

As the days began to shorten, Edwards and I began to plan our escape.
We had the maps, the one he had bought at Vehnemoor and the one I had
made. We had the compass, which we had kept hidden in a very small
crack in the sloping roof of the hut, and the Red Cross suits had
come, and were dark blu