wn our overcoats; in spite of the blackness which made the
travelling unbelievably difficult; in spite of the fact that we were
in a land of enemies, playing a desperate game against terrible odds,
we were happier than either of us had been since being taken to
Germany, for a weight had been rolled off our souls. We were on our
way to freedom!

When we found it necessary to consult the compass, I took off my
overcoat and lay flat on the ground with my compass and matches
ready. Bromley put my coat over my head and shoulders, tucking it
well in around me, so no light could shine through. Then I struck
a match, and in its light made the observation, always taking into
consideration the fact that in that part of Europe the compass points
sixteen or seventeen degrees west of due north.

We were careful to avoid the main roads and to seek out the
seldom-travelled, ones, for we knew that our only chance was in not
being seen at all, as we wore our own Canadian uniforms, which would
brand us at once for what we were. Added to that, we could not form
a single German sentence if we were challenged. Of course, I could
say "that Herr Schmidt expected to have his young child baptized in
the church next Sunday, God willing," but I felt that that was not
altogether the proper reply to make to the command--"Halt! Wer da?"

The villages were very thick here, and our chief difficulty was to
keep out of them. Once we ventured rather close to the road which ran
near the railroad, and heard a number of people talking. They were
travellers who had alighted from the train which had raced past us
in the darkness a few minutes before. The station is often quite a
distance from the village, and these were the passengers walking back
to their homes--the village which we had been avoiding.

We dropped to the ground, and the people went by, one old man
singing. I knew he was old, for his voice was cracked and thin, but
of great sweetness, and he sang an aria from a musical comedy which
was popular then, called "The Joy of Life." I had heard a doctor in
the lazaret singing it.

When the sound had grown fainter in the distance, we came out of our
hiding-place and went on.

"It seems hard," said Bromley, "to be fighting with people who can
sing like that. I can't work up any ill-will to that good old soul,
going home singing--and I don't believe he has any ill-will to us.
I couldn't fight the Germans if they were all like this old chap
and Sa