at us. I shall always remember that sharp command as the cold,
gray muzzles followed us like a sportsman covering a bevy of quail.
Our fat Belgian chauffeur, violinist in times of peace, and posing that
day as an American,--one of those men who look as if they would
bleed water if you pricked them with a bayonet,--needed no second
warning. Running the German gauntlet was not precisely his hobby.
Down went the emergency brake and the car jolted to a sudden halt.

A bristle-whiskered German giant under a canvas-covered helmet
stuck his head through the flaps, and for more than ten minutes he
and another sentinel searched our knapsacks and credentials and
inspected the Government mail pouches which we carried. The
sentries were far from satisfied. We said little at first, realizing,
nevertheless, that we had run between the opposing trenches and up
to the German outposts without actually drawing fire. That, at least,
was something of a comfort.

Then, as if the answer was the price of admission, the big one asked
us if we had seen many British soldiers around Antwerp and Ghent.
We had previously decided that the answer to such talk was, "None
of your business." But the fellow's bayonet was infernally bright and
sharp and his countenance like ice. It wasn't only the equinoctial rain
that made us shiver.

While I was trying to limber up my German vocabulary he passed us
along to his Ober-leutenant in the hut along the roadside. The Ober-
Ieutenant was grave. He said we must report to army headquarters
in Brussels, and that under no circumstances should we be allowed
to return within the Belgian lines. In this way began our eight days'
confinement within the lines of the German Army of the North under
General von Boehn.

Just as we had been warned repeatedly, so we discovered in reality
that to cross between two opposing lines was no joking matter. Bad
enough, particularly in the early days of the war, to a correspondent
without permission at the front. To work up from the rear (if you had
permission) was at least according to the rules of the game. But to
cross between hostile armies--that was the one forbidden act. The
fact that we were with an American Consul was not sufficient. Three
days later Van Hee was allowed to return, but the remainder of the
party, that is to say, Willard Luther and myself, were given a free trip
into German territory and incidentally more than a week's chance to
study the Germ