polite. One of them could speak a little English, and he tried
hard to get information regarding his country from us.

"Is it well?" he asked us eagerly. "My country--is it well?"

We thought of the shell-scarred country, with its piles of
smouldering ashes, its pallid women with their haunted faces, the
deathlike silence of the ruined streets. We thought of these things,
but we didn't tell him of them. We told him the war was going on in
great shape: the Allies were advancing all along the line, and were
going to be in Berlin by Christmas. It was worth the effort to see
his little pinched face brighten. He fairly danced at his work
after that, and when I saw him afterwards, he eagerly asked--"My
country--is it well?" I do not know why he thought I knew, or maybe
he didn't think so. But, anyway, I did my best. I gave him a glowing
account of the Allied successes, and painted a gloomy future for the
Kaiser, and I again had my reward, in his glowing face.

Everything we had was taken from us except shoes, socks, cap, and
handkerchief, and we did not see them again: neither did we get
another bath, although I was six weeks in the hospital.

The hospital clothes consisted of a pajama suit of much-faded
flannelette, but I was glad to get into it, and doubly glad to get
rid of my shirt and tunic, which were stiff on one side with dried
blood. From the lazaret, where I had my bath, I could see the gun
platform with its machine guns, commanding every part of the Giessen
Prison. The guard pointed it out to me, to quiet my nerves, I
suppose, and to scare me out of any thought of insubordination.
However, he need not have worried--I was not thinking of escaping
just then or starting an insurrection either. I was quite content to
lie down on the hard straw bed and pull the quilt over me and take
a good long rest.

CHAPTER IV

THE LAZARET

The lazaret in which I was put was called "M.G.K.," which is to say
Machine Gun Company, and it was exactly like the other hospital huts.
There were some empty beds, and the doctor seemed to have plenty of
time to attend to us. For a few days, before my appetite began to
make itself felt, I enjoyed the rest and quiet, and slept most of the
time. But at the end of a week I began to get restless.

The Frenchman whose bed was next to mine fascinated me with his
piercing black eyes, unnaturally bright and glittering. I knew
the look in his eyes; I had seen it--after the battle--when th