re rather distant from here now. The Germans are all about."

"We know it--to our sorrow," replied Bob. "How we are going to get
back to our company is what's worrying me."

"It _is_ going to be a problem," assented the officer.

"Are you coming with us?" asked Jimmy. It was a perfectly
natural question. Here was one--by most appearances an American
officer--marooned with some American doughboys in the midst of the
Germans. Why should he not cast his lot with them, and lead them to
the best of his ability to the safest place? He was an officer--there
was no question of that--and it was his right to lead. But he seemed
disturbed at Jimmy's question. He looked searchingly at the boys, and
then toward the distant hills where the Germans were massed, though
not then in sight.

"No, I--I can't come with you," the unknown said. "I'm sorry, but you
will have to shift for yourselves. I'll give you the best directions
I can to enable you to reach your own lines, but you'll have to go
alone."

"We'll try," said Bob. "But we wish to thank you, and we don't know--"

"Oh, it was all in the day's work," interrupted the officer, "Any one
who came along would have done just as I did to help you."

"Not anyone, sir," asserted Franz, in a low voice. "A German wouldn't
have chopped us out."

"Well--er--perhaps not," said the officer. "But it was in my line of
duty and I did it. I don't want to be thanked for doing my duty."

"But we insist on thanking you, sir!" exclaimed Jimmy with a
smile. "If it hadn't been for you we'd be dead in there now--it was
impossible for us to free ourselves!"

"Well, you may call me Captain Frank Dickerson," said the officer
slowly. And he appeared to hesitate over the words.

"Then allow me, in the names of my companions, to thank you from the
bottoms of our hearts!" exclaimed Jimmy, rising and saluting. The
captain returned the salute. He stood for a minute looking Jimmy
straight in the eyes, and the lad said afterward that the officer
seemed to be searching out the sergeant's very soul. Then Captain
Dickerson said:

"I must leave you now. You will find a little package of food at the
end of the mill flume. I'll leave you this canteen so you may carry
water with you on your journey toward your own lines. Your way lies
there," and he pointed to the south. "Good-bye--and good luck! I hope
you may get through, but--"

Then, turning abruptly he strode off between two high grassy hummocks,
and w