listen. It was just as well I did. Not more than
three yards away, on the other side of the ironwork, a man spoke in
German and was immediately answered by another, who turned on his
light and commenced walking towards the end of the bridge I was making
for, to return to his old beat on my line. There was no time to lose,
so rushing back on tip-toe and down the embankment I fell over the
barbed wire at the bottom, which painfully impressed on me its
disapproval of my conduct.

After following the canal for a few hundred yards there seemed no
alternative but to swim across, so in I went, greatcoat and all. It
was awfully cold. At first my clothes and fleeced-lined flying boots
held the air and supported me, so that I lay on the surface of the
water as if bathing in the Dead Sea, feeling very ridiculous. But only
too soon everything filled up and I felt like a stone. Swimming as
silently as possible, I had almost reached the opposite bank, feeling
very tired, when I saw something glisten just in front which looked
very like a bayonet, and a man's voice shouted "_Hier_." Picture the
situation: a dark but starry November night, Hun sentry guarding
barges, and a poor wretch floundering about in the water, then you
will not be surprised that my heart after jumping into my mouth,
worked overtime again! The Hun thought I was a dog; I must be one
without delay if I wished to preserve a whole skin, so after a
spluttering growl I turned back with new energy, swimming like a dog
and whining softly. After again calling to me several times he threw a
few things in my direction, which fortunately went wide. I then swam
round a barge and with a great effort pulled myself out of the water,
rewarding the Hun, who was now calling a friend, with a final bark. I
ran across a field with the water pouring from me. I did not think one
could be so cold, an icicle was warm in comparison! With numb fingers
I wrung some of the water out of my clothes, and with chattering teeth
considered the situation. Here I was, still on the wrong side--the
only thing left to try was a village bridge. Again following the
tow-path I neared some lights, which proved to be a hospital, and
found myself in an apparently unoccupied station-yard, among a number
of large heaps. On raising a corner of a tarpaulin which covered the
nearest I recognised the familiar wicker crates, which contained
something heavy. It was an ammunition dump! I soon found the name of
the sta