p to know that our road
lay south-east, and I had marked this big river.'

'Did you hope to pick me up?' I asked. 'No, Cornelis. I thought you
would be travelling in first-class carriages while I should be plodding
on foot. But I was set on getting to the place you spoke of (how do
you call it? Constant Nople?), where our big business lay. I thought
I might be in time for that.'

'You're an old Trojan, Peter,' I said; 'but go on. How did you get to
that landing-stage where I found you?'

'It was a hard journey,' he said meditatively. 'It was not easy to get
beyond the barbed-wire entanglements which surrounded Neuburg--yes,
even across the river. But in time I reached the woods and was safe,
for I did not think any German could equal me in wild country. The
best of them, even their foresters, are but babes in veldcraft compared
with such as me ... My troubles came only from hunger and cold. Then
I met a Peruvian smouse, and sold him my clothes and bought from him
these. [Peter meant a Polish-Jew pedlar.] I did not want to part with
my own, which were better, but he gave me ten marks on the deal. After
that I went into a village and ate heavily.'

'Were you pursued?' I asked.

'I do not think so. They had gone north, as I expected, and were
looking for me at the railway stations which my friends had marked for
me. I walked happily and put a bold face on it. If I saw a man or
woman look at me suspiciously I went up to them at once and talked. I
told a sad tale, and all believed it. I was a poor Dutchman travelling
home on foot to see a dying mother, and I had been told that by the
Danube I should find the main railway to take me to Holland. There
were kind people who gave me food, and one woman gave me half a mark,
and wished me God speed ... Then on the last day of the year I came to
the river and found many drunkards.'

'Was that when you resolved to get on one of the river-boats?'

'_Ja_, Cornelis. As soon as I heard of the boats I saw where my chance
lay. But you might have knocked me over with a straw when I saw you
come on shore. That was good fortune, my friend... I have been
thinking much about the Germans, and I will tell you the truth. It is
only boldness that can baffle them. They are a most diligent people.
They will think of all likely difficulties, but not of all possible
ones. They have not much imagination. They are like steam engines
which must keep to prepared tracks. T