stony British stare did the
trick in spite of all handicaps, and he turned abruptly and went out.

The first week of June, I was considered able to go back to the
regular prison-camp. A German guard came for me, and I stepped out in
my pajamas to the outer room where our uniforms were kept. There were
many uniforms there--smelling of the disinfectants--with the owners'
names on them, but mine was missing. The guard tried to make me take
one which was far too short for me, but I refused. I knew I looked
bad enough, without having elbow sleeves and short pants; and it
began to look as if I should have to go to bed until some good-sized
patient came in.

But my guard suddenly remembered something, and went into another
hut, bringing back the uniform of "D. Smith, Vancouver." The name
was written on the band of the trousers. D. Smith had died the day
before, from lung trouble. The uniform had been disinfected, and hung
in wrinkles. My face had the hospital pallor, and, with my long hair
and beard, I know I looked "snaggy" like a potato that has been
forgotten in a dark corner of the cellar.

When we came out of the lazaret, the few people we met on the road to
the prison-camp broke into broad grins; some even turned and looked
after us.

CHAPTER V

THE PRISON-CAMP

The guard took me to Camp 6, Barrack A, where I found some of the
boys I knew. They were in good spirits, and had fared in the matter
of food much the same as I had. We agreed exactly in our diagnosis
of the soup.

I was shown my mattress and given two blankets; also a metal bowl,
knife, and fork.

Outside the hut, on the shady side, I went and sat down with some of
the boys who, like myself, were excused from labor. Dent, of Toronto,
was one of the party, and he was engaged in the occupation known as
"reading his shirt"--and on account of the number of shirts being
limited to one for each man, while the "reading" was going on, he sat
in a boxer's uniform, wrapped only in deep thought.

Now, it happened that I did not acquire any "cooties" while I was in
the army, and of course in the lazaret we were kept clean, so this
was my first close acquaintanceship with them. My time of exemption
was over, though, for by night I had them a-plenty.

I soon found out that insect powder was no good. I think it just made
them sneeze, and annoyed them a little. We washed our solitary shirts
regularly, but as we had only cold water, it did not kill the eggs,