leave for a few days of happiness in the capital, and at certain
stations, where more got on, the rush was not unlike that at a crowded
hour in some big city.

"I see something good," remarked Jack, as they sat looking out at the
scenery, glad, even for a brief moment, to be beyond the horrors of war.

"What?" asked his companion.

"There's a dining-car on this train. We sha'n't starve."

"Good enough, I almost forgot about eating," said Tom. "Now that you
speak of it, I find I have an appetite."

They ate and felt better; and it was as they were about to leave the
dining-car to go back to their places, that Jack nudged Tom and
whispered to him:

"Did you hear what he said?"

"Hear what who said?"

"That man just back of you. Did you have a good look at him?"

"I didn't, but I will have," said Tom, and, waiting a moment so as not
to cause any suspicion that his act was directed by his chum, Tom turned
and looked at the person Jack indicated. He beheld a quietly dressed
man, who seemed to be alone and paying attention to no one, eating his
lunch.

"Well, what about him?" asked Tom. "I don't see anything remarkable
about him, except that he's a slow eater. I admit I bolt my food too
much."

"No, it isn't that," said Jack in a low voice. "But don't you think he
looks like a German?"

Tom took another casual glance.

"Well, you might find a resemblance if you tried hard," he answered.
"But I should be more inclined to call him a Dutchman. And when I say
Dutchman I mean a Hollander."

"I understand," remarked Jack. "But I don't agree with you in thinking
that he may be from Holland. Of course men of that nationality have a
right to go and come as they choose, where they can, but I don't believe
this chap is one."

"Why not?"

"Because I heard him mutter something in German."

"Well, lots of Hollanders can speak German, I have no doubt. I can
splutter a few words myself, but not enough to hurt me. I began to pick
up some from the prisoners, after we had that experience with Potzfeldt,
when we realized that even a little knowledge of the Hun's talk, much as
we hate him, would be of service. And so you think you heard this fellow
speak German?" asked Tom, as he pretended to tie his shoe lace, to make
an excuse for pausing.

"I'm sure I did," said Jack.

"What did he say?"

"Something about wishing he had a plate of _metzel suppe_. Of course I
don't guarantee that pronunciation, but--"

"Oh, it'll