rneyed in the box car, but Tom could see nothing of
Germany save an occasional glimpse now and then when the sliding door
was opened at the stations, usually to admit more prisoners. Whatever
became of the men from the British trawler he never knew, but his
jack-tar companions were with him still and helped to keep up his
spirits. He never knew them by any other names than Freddie and
Tennert--the first name of one and the last name of the other--but so
great was his liking for them that it included the whole of sturdy,
plodding, indomitable old England into the bargain. They never talked
patriotism, and seemed to regard the war merely as a sort of a job that
had to be done--just like any other job. Early in the day before the car
filled up, Tom talked a good deal with them and as there was no guard
inside, the conversation was free.

"When you said, 'Shh'," said Tom at one time, "I knew what you was
thinkin' about. I was never in a war," he added innocently, "so I don't
know much about it. But if I was sent to jail for--say, for stealing--I
wouldn't think I had a right to escape."

"You'd be a pretty honorable sort of a thief," said Freddie.

"But, anyway," said Tom, "I was going to ask you about escapin' from a
military prison. That ain't dishonorable, is it?"

"No, strike me blind, it ain't! But it's jolly 'ard!" said Tennert.

"It's fer them to keep yer and fer you to grease off, if you can," said
Freddie. "If you give your parole, it's like a treaty----"

"A bloomin' scrap o' piper," interrupted Tennert. "They wouldn't put you
on yer honor because they don't know what honor is. It ain't in
Fritzie's old dictionary."

Tom was glad to think of it in this way. _It's for them to keep you and
for you to grease off_ (which evidently meant "get away"). He had great
respect for the opinions of these two Britishers and his mind dwelt upon
this only hope even before he had so much as a glimpse of his prison.

He meant to fight with the American forces, in spite of Fate and in
spite of Germany. Germany had armed guards and barbed wire
entanglements. Tom, on his side, had an iron button, a big mouth, a
look of dogged determination, a sense of having been grossly cheated
after he had made a considerable investment in time and a good deal of
scout pluck and Yankee resource. The only thing that had stood in the
way was the question of honor, and that was now settled on the high
authority of the British navy! Who but sturd