y have tree-toads here, but I could find
out which is north and south that way if they have."

"Blimy, if we don't listen and see if we can 'ear 'em s'ying 'polly voo
Fransay' in the trees!" said Tennert.

"But a feller could never get into France that way," said Tom. "'Cause
he'd have to cross the battle line. The only way would be to go down
around through Switzerland--around the end of the line, kind of."

"Down through Alsice," grunted Tennert.

"'E'd 'ave a 'underd miles of it," said Freddie.

"Unless Fritzie offered 'im a carriage. Hi, Fritzie, w'en do we have
tea?"

They made no secret of this dangerous topic--perhaps because they knew
the idea of escape from the clutches of Germany was so preposterous. In
any event, "Fritzie" did not seem greatly interested.

They were grouped at the station, a woebegone looking lot, despite their
blithe demeanor. There were a dozen or more of them, in every variety of
military and naval rags and tatters. Tom was coatless and the rest of
his clothing was very much the worse for salt water. The sailor suits of
his two companions were faded and torn, and Freddie suffered the
handicap of a lost shoe. The rest were all young. Tom thought they might
be drummer boys or despatch riders, or something like that. Several of
them were slightly wounded, but none seriously, for Germany does not
bother with prisoners who require much care. They were the residue of
many who had come and gone in that long monotonous trip. Some had been
taken off for the big camps at Wittenberg and Goettingen. As well as he
could judge, he had to thank his non-combatant character as well as his
youth for the advantages of "Slopsgotten."

When the hapless prisoners had been examined and searched and relieved
of their few possessions, they were marched to the neighboring camp--a
civilian camp it was called, although it was hardly limited to that.
They made a sad little procession as they passed through the street of
the quaint old town. Some jeered at them, but for the most part the
people watched silently as they went by. Either they had not the spirit
for ridicule, or they were too accustomed to such sights to be moved to
comment.

Tom thought he had never in his life seen so many cripples; and instead
of feeling sorry for himself his pity was aroused for these maimed young
fellows, hanging on crutches and with armless coat sleeves, hollow-eyed
and sallow, who braved the law to see the little cavalcade