f his other
companions in misfortune. Then the line was set in motion and he
stumbled along dazedly, abused verbally by his guards and prodded with
bayonets if he lagged or faltered.

Gradually his head stopped whirling and his brain grew clearer. His
face felt wet and sticky, and putting his hand to it he drew his
fingers away covered with blood.

He felt his head and found a ragged gash running almost the length of
the scalp. It must have bled freely, judging from the weakness he felt
and the way his hair was matted and his face smeared. But the blood
had congealed now and stopped flowing. He figured from the character
of the wound that it had been made by a glancing blow from a rifle.

It was fully dark when the gloomy procession halted at a big barn where
the prisoners were counted and passed in to stay for the night.

A little later some food was passed in to the prisoners, but Tom had no
appetite and even if he had been hungry it would have been hard to
stomach the piece of dry bread and watery soup that was given him as
his portion. So he gave it to others, and sat over in a corner
immersed in the gloomy thoughts that came trooping in upon him.

He was a prisoner. And what he had heard of Hun methods, to say
nothing of a former brief experience, had left him under no delusion as
to what that meant.

What were his comrades Frank, Bart and Billy doing now? Had they come
safely through the fight? He was glad at any rate that they were not
with him now. Better dead on the field of battle, he thought bitterly,
than to be in the hands of the Huns.

But Tom was too young and his vitality too great to give himself up
long to despair. He was a prisoner, but what of it? He had been a
prisoner before and escaped. To be sure, it was too much to expect to
escape by way of the sky as he had before. Lightning seldom strikes
twice in the same place. But there might be other ways--there should
be other ways. While breath remained in his body he would never cease
his efforts to escape. And sustained and inspired by this resolve, he
at last fell asleep.

When he awoke in the morning, his strength had in large measure
returned to him. His head was still a little giddy but his appetite
was returning. Still he looked askance at the meagre and unpalatable
breakfast brought in by the guards.

"Don't be too squeamish, kid," a fellow prisoner advised him, as he saw
the look on the young soldier's face. "Take