"True for you. So they might. Now, what can we ...? I got it. 'Ere, Eustace, put us down about 'arf a mile from the camp in France, will you? Alf, you tell 'im. 'E won't do it for me."

Alf complied. The familiar flat landscape reappeared before them and they welcomed it almost with joy.

"Now," said Bill impressively, "tell 'im to 'op over into the Boche lines an' bring us a prisoner.[Pg 113] An' mind, none of 'is 'olesale ways! 'E'll bring a 'ole army corps over if you don't look out, an' then we'd look silly. Just one, tell 'im—a officer."

[Pg 113]

In a moment a fat and haughty-looking German officer stood beside them. When he saw the khaki tunics, his hand went to his side, but the two Tommies flung themselves upon him.

"Get 'is revolver, Alf," panted Bill. "That's the ticket. Now then, 'ands up, Fritz. You come with us. You're our blinkin' alibi."

"What are you?" asked the Boche, in excellent English. "You have, I suppose, escaped from your cage. I warn you, you English dogs, to be more respectful to your superiors. When you are caught it shall go hard with you. That a common English swine shall call me Fritz."

"Nothin' to what you'll be called in a minute if you don't be'ave. Alf, I b'lieve the pore blighter thinks 'e's still in 'is own lines. What a sell for 'im."

"Come on, Bochie," said Alf, his finger on the trigger of the revolver. "Quick march."

"I will not move," declared the prisoner sullenly. "You cannot escape. There are men of mine on every side. Give me the revolver and I will see that you are not punished—much."

"Thank you for nothing," said Bill. "These 'ere are the British lines you're in, Fritz dear, an' you're our prisoner—see?"

The German, who still failed to grasp the situation, broke into a torrent of abuse and threats.

[Pg 114]

[Pg 114]

"Ain't 'e the little gentleman," said Alf in admiration.

Bill suddenly lost patience.

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