villages, we determined to run the risk of having a fire to roast
them. We didn't roast many, though, for the dawn came on too swiftly,
and we had to extinguish our fire, for there was a farmhouse not a
hundred yards away, and the people were beginning to stir.

That day there were people working all around us, and one old chap,
with a red shirt on, was so ambitious about getting his turnips
lifted that I don't believe he even knocked off for noon. We thought
he would never quit at night either. We called him the "work-hog!"

In the afternoon, as we lay in the woods, an old man, a shepherd,
came with a flock of white sheep which followed close behind him.
The old man wore a velvet cloak, knee breeches, and buckles on his
shoes, and he had a sheep dog with him--a small-sized tricolored,
rough-haired collie. It was exactly like a picture! We were not in
any mood to enjoy the beauty of it, for some of the sheep wandered
through the wood, almost stepping on us, and when the shepherd came
after them, he must have seen us. But the old man belonged to the
peaceful past, and knew nothing of wars and prisoners, so went out of
the wood as quietly as he came. He was as innocent-looking as the
sunshine, or the white clouds in the blue sky!

Still, we were two suspicious men who trusted no one, and we thought
it best to move. I took the potatoes in my sack, and Ted, to be ready
for emergencies, provided a stout, knotted club for himself, and we
stole out of the wood, being careful to keep it between us and the
"work-hog," who never lifted his eyes--but still we took no chances,
even on him!

There was a better wood a short distance away, and to it we came. We
saw nobody, and, coming into a dark cover, lit a fire, for we thought
the smoke would not rise to the tops of the trees. On it we roasted
our remaining potatoes, and we got a drink in a narrow, trickling
stream.

We started again, at dark, and before long came to a railway, which,
according to our map, was the line which runs parallel to the river
Ems. We knew we were coming near the Ems, and at the thought of it,
drew a long breath. It seemed a long time since we had stood on its
bank before and heard the sounds from across the Holland border. We
kept going all night, avoiding the roads, and about three o'clock
reached the river. There it was!--a much smaller river than when
we had last seen it, but plenty large enough yet to fill us with
apprehension. We found a good h