ditches, under haystacks--in any hole or corner that should shelter
them in a world that seemed full of cruel eyes looking ceaselessly for
them. Backwards and forwards they had been driven; making a few
miles, and then forced to retreat for many; thrown out of their
course, often lost hopelessly, falling from one danger into another.
They had never known what it was to sleep peacefully; their food had
been chiefly turnips, stolen from the fields, and eaten raw.

Three times they had reached the frontier; only to be seen by the
guards, fired upon--a bullet had clipped Jim's ear--and forced to turn
back as the only alternative to capture. What that turning-back had
meant no one but the men who endured it could ever know. Each time
swift pursuit had nearly discovered them; they had once saved
themselves by lying for a whole day and part of a night in a pond,
with only their faces above water in a clump of reeds.

They had long abandoned their original objective; the point they had
aimed at on the frontier was far too strongly guarded, and after two
attempts to get through, they had given it up as hopeless, and had
struck towards the Rhine, in faint expectation of finding a boat, and
perhaps being able to slip through the sentries. They had reached the
river two nights before, but only to realize that their hope was vain;
no boats were to be seen, and the frowning blockhouses barred the way
relentlessly. So they had struck north, again trying to pierce the
frontier; and the night before had encountered sentries--not men
alone, but bloodhounds. The guards had contented themselves with
firing a few volleys--the dogs had pursued them savagely. One Jim had
succeeded in killing with his knife, the other, thrown off the trail
for a little by a stream down which they had waded, had tracked them
down, until, almost exhausted, they had dashed in through the open
door of the old mill--for once careless as to any human beings who
might be there.

The bloodhound had come, too, and in the mill, lit by shafts of
moonlight through the narrow windows, they had turned to bay. The
fight had not lasted long; they were quick and desperate, and the dog
had paid the penalty of his sins--or of the sins of the human brutes
who had trained him. Then they had looked for concealment, finding
none in the mill--the floors were bare, except for the great barrels,
half-full of a brown liquid that they could not define.

"Well, there's noth