g over the rough table close
to the lantern, he drew a map somewhat similar to, though less complete
than, the one given here.

[Illustration: SHOWING THE ROUTE TAKEN BY TOM AND ARCHER.]

There is nothing like a map to show one "where he is at," to quote
Archer's phrase, and the boys followed with great interest as Melotte
penciled the course of the Rhine and the places which he wished to
emphasize in the southern part of Alsace.

"Here at Norne lives my comrade, Blondel," he said. "Two years we work
togezzer at Pas_sake_--you know? In ze great silk mills."

"Passaic," said Tom; "that's near Bridgeboro, where I live."

"Pas_sake_, yess. So now you are so clevaire to know who shall leeve in
a house, I will tell you how you shall know ze house of my comrade,
Blondel. _By ze blue flag with one black spot!_ Yess? You know what ziss
shall be? _Billet!_" He gave Archer a dig in the ribs as if this
represented the high water mark of sagacity.

"Oh, I know," said Archer; "it means Gerrman officerrs are billeted
therre. Go-o-od _night_! Not for us!"

The old man did not seem quite to understand, but he turned again to his
map. "Here now is ze new road," he said, drawing it with his shaky old
hand. "From ze Rhine road it runs--south--so. Now you are so
clevaire--Yankee clevaire, ha, ha, ha!" he laughed with a kind of
irritating hilarity; "why should zey make ziss road? From ze north--from
Leteur--all around--zey bring our women to make ziss road. Ziss is
where Mam'selle is--so! Close by it lives my comrade, Blondel. Ziss is
noble army to command, ugh!" He gritted his teeth. "_All are women!_"

Tom looked at the map, as old Melotte poised his skinny finger above it
and peered eagerly up into his face from the depths of his scraggly
white hair. It was little enough Tom knew about military affairs and he
thought that this lonesome old weaver was in his dotage. But surely this
new road could be for but one purpose, and that was the quick transfer
of troops from the Alsatian front to the Swiss border. And the sudden
conscription of women and girls for the making of the road seemed
plausible enough. Could it be that this furnished a clew to the
whereabouts of Florette Leteur? And if it did, what hope was there of
reaching her, or of rescuing her?

He listened only abstractedly to the old man's rambling talk of
Germany's intention to violate Swiss neutrality if that became necessary
to her purpose. His eyes were half closed as