volley of abuse which I had to hurl at the soldiers on the station, if they seemed inclined to question the validity of my papers, and wished to arrest

me.

"My God and Father," I had to say, with as much bounce, bluster, and indignation as I could muster, "I have travelled at least fifty times along this line with these papers, and never had any trouble, and now you stop me! It is too idiotic for words!"

I kept rehearsing all this in German as the train rolled nearer and nearer the station at which we should have to leave the train, and he was not at all satisfied with my pronunciation.

"It's that confounded Danish accent of yours," he said, in despair.

"Oh, that will be all right," I replied, and I would try again, only to be corrected again and again.

"Good heavens," he said, "I hope the train stops before we enter the station. In that event, we will open the carriage door and make a dash in the dark across the lines into the town."

"I am afraid that is unwise," I said, "because, if the station is near Holland, it is almost certain there will be goods trains there from Holland guarded by soldiers, and if they see any one running across the railway lines, they will be certain to take pot-shots at us. Now, look here! don't worry about me. I will give you half a dozen yards' start at the atation. You are certain to

be able to get through with your papers, and if I get caught, well, I am caught, and there is an end of it. I will swear that I do not know you from Adam. Whatever happens, I will guarantee that you will not be implicated in any way whatsoever."

This seemed to satisfy him a little, but he was still ill at ease.

"But, what if those papers are found on you?"

"Ob," I replied, "that is easily explained. I will swear that I was sitting in a café in X. I saw a man take out those papers and show them to a friend. I wanted papers myself, and on seeing him slip them into his overcoat pocket, which was hanging close to mine, I found an opportunity of stealing them, tore off the man's photograph, put my own in its place, forged the stamp, and there you are!"

The scheme seemed to satisfy him, and by the time this had been decided upon the train pulled up at the station. I allowed him to get two or three yards ahead of me among the dozen or so people who were going in the direction of the barrier from the train, and saw him pass safely through. With my heart beating uncomfortably fast, I walked up to the barrier, with my legitimation papers in one hand and my ticket in the other. There were two soldiers, armed with rifles and fixed bayonets, and I had to pass between the two. As I handed my ticket to the girl ticket-collector, one of the soldiers made a grab at

There I was met by the smuggler, who took me by the arm, and, pressing it to him, said

"That was splendidly done. Man, you will get a fine welcome in Holland as a German deserter."

"Really?" I said, "that is fine"; and we passed on through the quiet, almost pitch-dark, streets.

We stopped for a little refreshment at an inn in the town, and then set out in the drizzling rain for the frontier itself. We had about two hours' walking before us, before we came to the actual sentry lines, and I have simply a confused recollection of inky darkness, rustling leaves under foot, rain, patches of forest, field-paths, and open heath. The last stretch was across open country, divided into fields by hedges, ditches, and barbed wire. As we approached one hedge, I whispered to my companion that I heard some one moving on the other side. We flung ourselves flat in the wet grass, and listened. Presently we got up, peered round the hedge, and noticed that the noise we thought was made by a sentry came from a number of cows that were lying in the field. We went on.

It was close upon midnight, on the 13th of November 1917,

last line of sentries. They were posted along a canal, which, I believe, although I am not certain, was the actual frontier. As Holland lay before me, and as all that remained to be done depended on my own initiative and resource, there was no point in taking my companion farther. I agreed to crouch in the darkness on the banks of the canal until he had got back into safety, and as soon as I could no longer hear or see him, I dropped into the slime and water, and waded, as cautiously as I could, into the middle. I expected to have to swim, but it only took me up to my armpits. Keeping my eyes fixed on a group of pollard willows on the opposite bank of the canal, I made for them, going as slowly, and making as little noise as possible. When I got to the other bank, I rose out of the canal inch by inch, so that the water dripping from my clothes should not make so loud a noise as would attract the attention of any sentry who might be near me in the darkness. I learned later that many men had been shot, trying to cross not far from there.

Once on the opposite bank, I stood close to this clump of trees until some of the water had dripped from me, and then, feeling as though I were clothed in a suit of lead, ran, as fast as my legs could carry me, across an open field.

Was this Holland? or was I still in Germany? I decided, in any event, to proceed for a time with the utmost caution.

There were no stars by means of which I might have found my right direction, so, flinging myself flat on the wet ground, I took out my compass with a view to striking a direction due north, which would have taken me deeper and deeper into Holland. To my dismay, I found that my compass had become flooded. My intention had been to go through the canal with the compass in my mouth, but I had been too eager to reach the Promised Land, and, in my eagerness, had forgotten this very necessary precaution. In my despair, I talked to it like an animate being. I held it still, I tapped it, I shook it, but in vain. The needle would not move. There were no stars visible. There was no moon. No village lights were there ahead to help me. Already, I was shivering with cold in my soaking clothes. Obviously, the only thing to do was to keep on the move. But where? In which direction? Anywhere. Anywhere. But God forbid that I should walk blindly back into Germany. Anywhere but there.

I began to walk, as I thought, in a direction at right angles to the canal I had crossed. Sometimes I came to an impenetrable hedge, or a patch of bog, or a broad ditch, and, in skirting it, completely lost my sense of direction. Three times I found myself back on the banks of the canal, on the other side of which the German sentries were posted, and realised, as I peered into the water, that I had walked in a rough semi

oirole back to the point from which I had started.

Good God! was I after all doomed to failure so near the goal? Were three years of persistent effort to escape about to end in my walking blindly back into Germany, after I had trod the soil of the country which had so long been the object of my yearning?

I was strangely calm. The heaviest strain is felt in waiting to do things, not in doing them.

How long I walked I know not, but I suddenly found myself in front of a farm-house, which loomed up before me out of the almost tangible darkness. At last I had found a habitation. Its architecture seemed at any rate un-German. Would the people turn out to be German or Dutoh? I decided to take the risk, and, in the event of finding myself face to face with a German soldier, resolved to fight-or run-as seemed best at the moment.

Bang! Bang! Bang! The noise of my knocking reverberated through the whole house.

At last, I heard heavy footsteps on the brick floor, the key turned in the look, and a burly farmer greeted me, thank God! in a language I did not understand.

The man was a thousand times too stolid. I wanted to embrace him, shake him, dance round and round on the kitchen floor with him.

I told him in a sort of pidginGerman-English that I was an Englishman who had just escaped from Germany. He

took me inside the house, which I lighted with a flash-lamp that I carried. The living-room was beautifully clean with its redbrick floor, and through an open door I saw a bed covered with a counterpane of many colours, from which a head peeped out, clad in a white nightcap. It was the farmer's wife. They spoke to each other in Dutoh, but I could not understand. I took from my wet trousers pocket all the money that I possessed, laid it on the table, and begged him to take me to the nearest village, and hand me over to the police or the military authorities. He seemed reluctant to do so, and offered me the use of his barn for the night; but I was already shivering with cold, and decided that I would not trust any one who lived so near the German frontier. I felt that I should not be safe until I was in the oustody either of Dutch soldiers or Dutch policemen. Then the old woman said something to her husband, and, feeling that it had reference to me, I asked him to tell me what she had said. In broken German he replied

"My wife tells me to show you the path to the nearest village, if you will leave us your flash-lamp."

I pressed him to take it, and, shortly afterwards, we left the farm-house for the path which led to the village. There he bade me good-night. I swung along with a lighter step and a lighter heart than I had known for three and a half years. The cup of my happiness was running over. At last! My only pause was to drop on one knee on the gravel path and whisper three words of gratitude for my deliverance.

In the centre of the village 1 met two Dutch soldiers, gave myself up to them, and was led by them into some wooden barracks near by. There I spent two nights and two days.