her moor, all in bloom and a glorious blaze of
color, amethyst, purple, mauve, with the bright September sun pouring
down upon it. Our spirits always rose when the sun came out, and sank
again when the day grew dark.

[Illustration: A Prison Post-Card from Friedrichsfeld bei Wesel /
The group includes soldiers from Canada, Newfoundland, England,
Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa,
France, Belgium, Italy, Russia, Serbia, and Roumania.]

Since these experiences of battling bare-handed with the elements I
can understand why primeval man fell into sun-worship, for on the
caprice of the sun with its power to give or withhold, the happiness
and well-being of the roofless traveller depends.

We stayed closely in the dark shadows of the heavy evergreens that
day, although just beyond was the golden sunlight with its warmth and
comfort, for we were afraid to show ourselves in the open. That night
we came upon a potato garden, and dug out some with our fingers,
filling our pockets and our handkerchiefs with them. We had a good
night, and shoved the miles behind us. We had promised ourselves a
fire just at dawn, and the thought of it, and the potatoes we should
bake, was wonderfully cheering.

Just at the beginning of the dawn, in that gray, misty light, a fire
can scarcely be seen, for the air is something the color of smoke,
and there is enough light to hide the fire. At night the fire shows,
and in the daylight, the smoke, but in the gray dawn it is not easy
to see either. So on the morning of September 3d, we gathered dry
sticks and made our first fire. There was a blue veil of haze on the
horizon, and a ragged gray mist hung over the low places. The air was
sweet with the autumn smell of fallen leaves and wood bark, and as we
sat over our tiny fire, we almost forgot that we were in a world of
enemies. The yellow beeches and the dark green spruces bent over us
in friendliest fashion, and a small bird chased a hawk above the
trees.

Still, we were not beguiled by the friendliness of our surroundings
to take any chances, and, instead of waiting for ashes or coal to
roast our potatoes, we put them right on the fire. What if they were
burnt on the outside? We scraped off part of the charcoal and ate the
rest. We knew about charcoal tablets being good for digestion, and we
believed ours could stand a little assistance, for green apples and
new milk are not a highly recommended combination.

We ke