n we ran off with their motorcycle saw
us, they'd be able to prove it," said Arthur.

"Yes, I hadn't thought of them. But they're prisoners fortunately. I
hope they'll be well looked after, too. It would be mighty awkward if
they turned up here suddenly. They know just how important were the
plans we got and these others don't know anything about that, at all.
I believe that our people knowing just where the German guns were
placed made a great deal of difference."

The coming of a soldier interrupted them. He told them that they were
to be examined at once.

"Then you will be shot," he said, showing his teeth. "As you deserve,"
he added, trying to look fierce.

But there was a twinkle in his eye that both Paul and Arthur saw. They
had been treated very well so far. They had seen nothing, as a matter
of fact, to make them think that the Germans were brutal. They made
war, and that is brutal in itself. The gentlest men, when they are
engaged in a campaign, must do things that they would never attempt of
their own free will.

The soldiers now led the way to a house that both boys knew well, for
it belonged to a friend of their uncle, whom they had often visited.
It was being used as headquarters now by a part of the German staff,
and was full of officers who looked at them curiously. They still wore
their Boy Scout uniforms. There had been no opportunity, as a matter
of fact, for them to change their clothes before the fire, and all the
other clothes they possessed had been destroyed, of course, at that
time.

"You were caught by our troops in territory occupied by us--within our
actual battle line, indeed," said a colonel who received them. "Did
you not receive warning that all civilians were to leave the zone in
which you were found?"

They could deny that truthfully, and did. Paul was rather glad, as the
matter had turned out, that his plan of pretending to be dumb had not
been tried. He knew that it would be very hard for Arthur to tell an
untruth, even by suggestion, excellent as was the excuse for doing so.
Arthur could understand, of course, that to deceive the enemy was
permissible, and, more than that, praiseworthy. It was a question
simply of whether he could hope to do so successfully.

"The thing to be done now is to get rid of you," said the colonel. He
frowned severely, but, as with the soldier who had brought them for
examination, there was a smile behind the frown. "I might have