re in
Kansas, who had been raked in with a haul of prisoners from a torpedoed
liner. "We used the water at the pump as long as the engines worked;
then we shouldered our buckets and began going down to the brook. When
the buckets went to pieces, we made a few out of canvas and they're not
half bad."

Tom had inquired why they went down to the end of the oval to get water
when there was a pump up in the middle of the grounds.

"So there you are," concluded his informer.

"Is the engine supposed to pump water up from the brook?" Tom asked.

"It isn't supposed to do anything," said the other, "it used to be
supposed to, but it's retired."

"I thought Germany was so efficient," said Tom. "I should think they'd
fix it. Can't it be fixed?"

"Not by anyone here, it seems. You see, they won't let us have any
tools--wrenches, or files or anything. If you mention a file to Old
Griff, he throws a couple of fits. Thinks you want to cut the barbed
wire."

"Then why don't _they_ fix it?"

"Ah, a question. I suppose they think the exercise of trotting down to
the brook will do us good. I dare say if the chief engineer could get
hold of a file he could fix it; seems to think he could, anyway. But gas
engines are funny things."

"You're right they are," said Tom, thinking of the troop's motor boat
away home in Bridgeboro. "Of course, _I_ don't mind the walk down
there," he added, "only it seemed kind of funny----"

"It's tragic for some of these lame fellows."

"Who _is_ the chief engineer," Tom asked.

"Oh, he's a kid that was a despatch rider, I think. Anyway, he's wise to
motorcycles. He's had several consulting engineers on the job--Belgian,
French, and British talent--but nothin' doing. He's gradually losing his
head."

"You couldn't exactly blame them for not letting him have a file," Tom
said, reasonably enough, "or a wrench either for that matter, unless
they watched him all the time."

"Nah!" laughed his companion. "Nobody could file through that fence wire
without the sentries hearing him; it's as thick as a slate pencil,
almost."

"Just the same you can't blame General Griffenhaus for not being willing
to give files to prisoners. That's the way prisoners always get away--in
stories."

About dusk of the same day Tom wandered to the pump, which was not far
from the center of the vast oval. On the earth beside it a ragged figure
sat, its back toward Tom, evidently investigating the obstreperous
engine. Tom