le I rode across the fields. After she
entered the house where she was living at Estaires I followed and
opened the door. As soon as she saw me she fainted. I blew my
whistle, and on arrival of the picket we searched the house and found
the German code with some maps and other incriminating documents. I
never did a harder task in my life than hand that girl over to the
French authorities for possible execution. She was a very pretty,
happy little girl, red-haired and blue-eyed, and, although one could
show no pity because the safety and life of thousands were at stake,
yet it wrung the heart to think of the wastage of the young, bright
life, the victim of German gold, and the treachery that is the
handmaiden of war, and preys on the weakness of the moral nature.

There was another occasion when I unearthed a spy's burrow. One night
a man in D Company stopped me on the road, and pointing out a lonely
farmhouse, told me he had seen some blue sparks flashing from the
chimney. We walked across and, entering the flagged kitchen, asked for
"cafe au lait." Sitting at the white table worn with much scrubbing,
and slowly sipping the coffee, we engaged the old man and woman in
conversation. They were very bitter in their denunciation of "les
boches," and spoke of their sacrifices as nothing. "Why, monsieur, it
is for France! It is not for us to complain if she ask much from us."
My companion spoke French very fluently (his name was Davies), and he
acted as interpreter. I noticed that they seemed anxious to get rid of
us, but we stayed for several hours getting the old lady to cook us
eggs and chipped potatoes, and talking on almost every topic but the
war. One suspicious circumstance that had caught my eye as soon as we
entered the kitchen was the fact that the flue of the stove did not
lead up the chimney, but out through a hole in the wall.

At last, when we rose to go the old man in an excess of hospitality
accompanied us fifty yards on our way. We promised to bring some
companions on another day. "But no, monsieur, that will not do--we
cannot get more eggs, and my wife she is a little afraid of the soldat
from Australie."

After he left us and returned to the farm we doubled back, and round to
the other side. Soon we heard the crackle of wireless. Expecting that
the door would be fast bolted, we smashed-in a window, almost knocking
over the old woman as she barred our way. Looking up the chimney, I
found