As we walked towards V—— over heavily ploughed fields, we found that we were very gradually ascending. On the way we passed a line of posts running in a straight line north and south. Was this the boundary? They were certainly boundary-posts of some kind. But then this could not be the frontier, as we had seen no sentries at all, and we knew there were at least two lines of them. Still pressing forward, only with added precaution, dropping on our faces every time we heard a sound or saw anything suspicious, we approached a sunken road, with what appeared to be a line of blockhouses situated on it, at about a hundred yards apart. These were occupied by soldiers, as once or twice a door opened, letting out a flood of light, and exposing to view a man in German uniform, who left his house and walked over to another one, carrying a lantern. This he put out and went inside. All this time we were lying in suspense not more than sixty yards from one of these blockhouses.

Immediately the soldier had disappeared we crawled over the road, and advanced towards the glow in the sky already mentioned. Within a mile the plough came to an end, and we found ourselves approaching what appeared to be a long hedge, but when we came up to it we found it to be the outskirts of a dense forest of broom. Into this we penetrated for a few yards, when we came across a little path cut through the broom. Here we held a whispered consultation, and decided that we did not like the look of it at all. We lay down in the broom beside the path, in order to hear any sound that might betray the fact that others were there besides ourselves.

Hardly had we sunk into the broom when the intense silence of the place was broken by the sound of footsteps, which came nearer and nearer, until a sentry with his gun at the slope passed us on the path; he was so close I could have touched him. It is not necessary to describe to what a pitch of excitement we were brought by our discovery that we were actually in the frontier lines. The moment of swift and fearless action had arrived! Drawing out my penknife, I hastily cut the laces of my boots, pulled them off, and padded silently in my stockinged feet down the path after the sentry. Fortunately this path had not been cut in a straight line, but wound about here and there, so that I was able to slip after him from corner to corner. Once or twice I imagined that I could distinguish his form in front of me, but I could hear the sound of his heavy tramp distinctly enough to know if he stopped, otherwise I might have come upon him suddenly round a corner.

We must have proceeded about seventy yards in this manner when the soldier in front of me was challenged, but I could not catch the answer. Then I distinctly heard two, if not three voices in conversation, although I must have been quite thirty yards away, which led me to believe that, for the moment at least, our presence had not been suspected, or they would have been more careful to hush their voices. Again a slight noise led me to believe that our sentry was on the move. Instantly I slunk into the bushes to await events, thinking that perhaps he might be going to return, but nothing happened until I heard another challenge in front of me, this time very indistinct. I now came to the conclusion that we were in a line of outposts, and that our sentry was the visiting patrol, which turned out to be correct. If this was the case, then there must be another sentry very close to the spot where I had left my companion—too close, in fact, for peace of mind—and I immediately started to retrace my steps.

On my way back I noticed for the first time that I had passed a number of small paths, cut through the broom, in the same way as the one on which I was, but running at right angles to it—in fact, going towards what we supposed to be the frontier. Could we afford to risk taking one of these? If there were any more sentries in front, certainly not. Whilst absorbed in these meditations I suddenly heard something coming towards me. Hurrying on, I arrived at the place where I supposed my friend was, and plumped down into the bushes. In a few moments the same sentry passed again, so close I could have touched him. Within from ten to fifteen yards he was again challenged, to which he answered “Friend,” after which I thought I heard a few mumbled words passed between them about rain coming, and one of them moved off again. My difficulty now was to find my companion without making any noise that the sentry near us could hear. Creeping down the path, I tried to locate the place where I had taken off my boots, but I was absolutely at sea, when to my satisfaction I saw another figure creeping towards me.

Fortunately my friend had seen me come back, and had marked down my position. We then discussed in whispers the result of my scouting movement, deciding to take to the broom, and try to follow the direction of one of the paths running at right angles. This we put into immediate execution, but very soon found that the disturbance we were making would be fatal to us, since it is almost impossible to walk or crawl through thick whippy stuff like broom without making a noise; so, after having gone a few yards, we decided to trust ourselves to one of the paths, which we did, advancing along its edge and dodging from bush to bush.

The moon was now playing the most exasperating tricks; sometimes she would be quite hidden, only suddenly to flash out again between the light clouds which obscured the heavens. We must have made a bit over a hundred yards or so, when we again heard somebody talking, this time almost directly in front of us; so off we went into the broom again, travelling south-west, and within a few minutes struck another path running parallel with the one we had just left. This bucked us up, as we thought we had escaped a sentry in front of us on the other path; but our hopes were quickly dashed to the ground by the sight of the glowing end of a cigarette right beside the path which we were now on, and not more than thirty yards in front. For a few moments we felt rather hopeless, but soon decided that we must risk crawling through the broom between the two of them. Accordingly we again entered the broom, working our way to a spot which we judged would be about equidistant between the two sentries, and started to crawl forward, taking the most infinite precautions.

We made our way through the broom, crawling one behind the other, the foremost carefully parting the bushes and holding them back for the passage of the one behind, in order that they might not whip back and cause a suspicious sound. Every ten yards or so one of us would crane his head cautiously above the broom to see if we were keeping direction relative to the drives. It was during one of these surveys that we discovered that we were on a level with the sentries on our right and left respectively; for there to our right was the other man, who was also smoking. “Blessed cigar, or whatever you are! What a splendid beacon light you show!”

Crawling on, we left the line of sentries behind us, and had proceeded a little distance when we found that the broom was gradually becoming thinner and thickly interspersed with heather, until finally only thick heather about a foot deep prevailed. Here we were able to notice that a slight wind had sprung up, which was encouraging, as it lessened the chances of our being heard. On the other hand, the moon had come out from behind a big mass of clouds, so that we could be seen from a very great distance. Fortunately she was sinking and would not trouble us much longer. In front of us lay a long stretch of flat heather, over which we must continue to crawl, both because our figures could easily be seen by the sentries behind us and because we did not know what might be in front of us.

We had passed through two lines, possibly we were actually over the frontier; but we dare not risk this. The dispositions of sentries that we had discovered and of those we had eliminated were as shown opposite. Still crawling, we pushed forward slowly and cautiously—at first, in order to

make sure that the sentries behind could see nothing; then, when we had put a good distance between us, we began to quicken the pace, until we were almost running on our hands and knees. But the effort of crawling for such a long period was quickly robbing us of what strength we had left. Every ten or twenty yards we were forced to sink down into the heather for a few moments’ rest, in order to gather a little more energy to go on with, and also to stretch our legs out straight; for we were now suffering agonies with cramp, brought about by the unwonted exercise of the muscles utilised in crawling—even our tongues, were curling back into our mouths; but we set our teeth and crawled on, in spite of the cramp.

“We must succeed, we must beat the Boches! Gad! how sick they’ll be if we get over! But shall we? Thank God, the people at home don’t know we are hunted beasts, and they can’t see the danger we are in; but you see it all, you old moon up there—you can see the dangers in front—you who see all the doings of the night, what does fate hold in store?—you with the tantalising smile, so cold and aloof! I’d swear at you, if I wasn’t afraid of you. Please don’t stare so.”

Presently the moon sank behind a big cloud, and my friend and I were able to rise to our feet and walk slowly forward. The relief of being able once more to stretch our legs was intense. This did not last very long, however, as we suddenly caught the sound of a man’s footsteps pacing evenly upon some hard and ringing substance. Instantly we were on our knees in the heather. Where on earth could the man be? There was no road of any sort, as far as we had been able to see before the moon had sunk behind the clouds. On every side of us was an unbroken expanse of heather, yet the sound of somebody walking was unmistakable, and grew more distinct as we crawled nearer. We were absolutely puzzled, when, looking to our right, I saw another beacon light, perhaps one hundred yards away. Somebody was smoking, and the smoker was moving. At first he seemed to be coming towards us; but as our position could not be bettered by advancing or retreating, we decided to stay where we were, cowering down amongst the heather.

After a little while we decided that the light was moving away from us, to suddenly disappear altogether. Cautiously we crawled forward again, the sound of pacing growing so distinct that it seemed as if it could not be more than a few feet away. Suddenly, without any warning, the two of us found ourselves looking down into a sunken road, about forty feet deep and perhaps one hundred and twenty feet across, into which we must descend, down a steep sandy bank, to the hard surface of the road beneath. The sound of some one pacing puzzled us no longer; for there, not ten yards away, was a small hut, right in the middle of the sunken road, on the other side of which somebody was pacing up and down. We could not see the man, but we could distinguish when he was walking towards us, when he stopped, and when he was walking in the opposite direction.

Again we were disturbed by the sound of something moving roughly through the heather behind us. We were now threatened on both sides, so that immediate action was necessary. To slide down into the road, we waited till the sentry was apparently walking away from us, and then let ourselves head-first down the sandy slope. I dug my nails and toes into the sand, but the descent was too steep. Swish! and I found myself lying by the side of the road, waiting for my partner to follow suit. Swish! and he too lay beside me. For a moment we listened to hear if the sentry was on his return beat—we could not be sure. In that moment of waiting the moon came out again clear and bright, and the steps of the sentry were coming nearer and nearer. He could not fail to see us; our dark bodies against the glistening white of the road must stand out in relief. We lay still, hardly breathing. In a moment he would see us—perhaps he had done so already; he was taking aim, and we waited for the bullet. Oh the suspense of the moment! Slowly—it seemed ages—he advanced, and then we heard him swing round, and he was walking away again. Immediately we wormed our way on our stomachs across the road, and attempted to climb the other side in silence; but it was steep and sandy, similar to the side we had just come down, and for every two feet we went up we came down one.

Once more the sentry was on his return journey, which forced us to be silent again; but this time it was not so easy, as we were on the slope. In vain we dug our hands and feet into the sand; we slipped down slowly but surely, inch by inch. He could not fail to hear the slipping sand, or so we thought; but he didn’t, and on his again walking away from us we scrambled up, regardless of the noise we made. Still he seemed to hear nothing, but we gained the top in safety.

As soon as we got our breath, and had time to survey our new position, we found, to our surprise, that we were lying beside a new railway track under construction. Directly up against us was a large heap of flint-stones, evidently for use on the track. To pass over this, without dislodging a single flint, would be impossible. However, get over it we must, and we finally managed to cross without making very much disturbance; but it was no joke for me, without any boots on. Once over the other side, we hurried across the track. In front of us was a large shed, evidently used for stores and tools, as there were several wheelbarrows about. Fearing there might be a night watchman

of some sort, we started to skirt round it to the right, and had not cleared the track more than a few feet when we practically ran into the arms of a sentry. Whether he saw us first or we him I do not know. He wasn’t more than forty yards away, only a small hedge separating us from him.

We were fairly caught. Immediately I grabbed my friend’s arm, and walked him straight up to the tool-shed, knocking at the door. The sentry was walking rapidly towards us. At the moment I knocked he called “Halt!” at which the two of us doubled round the shed on the other side, putting it between him and us. Twice we heard him frantically yell “Halt!” but we had seen a tall hedge to our left, running in the direction we were making for. To this we sprinted, and kept on running under its shadow, till we dropped for want of breath. Every moment we expected to hear the whiz of a bullet, but evidently we had shaken him off.

It was now pitch-dark, the moon having disappeared for good, for which we were very thankful. But before we had recovered our breath sufficiently to press on again, the silence of the night was rudely broken by the sound of six shots, fired in quick succession. This firing must have been half a mile to our right, but in the stillness of the early morning it sounded very much nearer. Alas! in our own extremity of the moment, we had forgotten the other pair of escapers. Fortunately we never connected these shots with our late comrades, or the knowledge would certainly have caused us great anxiety for their safety.

Very soon we felt sufficiently recovered to go on, also we were anxious to get farther away from the sentry who had so nearly taken us, fearing that he might be putting dogs on our track, although we calculated that we must now be out of danger, even if we were not actually over the frontier, since we had passed two lines of guards in the broom, and now this last line which we had just got through. The Germans could not possibly have more than three lines, as they were too badly in need of men at the front, or so we thought, to be able to waste them guarding the frontier.

Slowly and painfully—for we were very nearly at the end of our tether—we made our way eastward through a thinly planted wood, on the other side of which we traversed a large area of plough. We felt so certain that we were over and safe that we actually began to discuss the fact, without troubling to lower our voices very much. Suddenly a man called “Halt!” Looking to our left, we saw a figure bearing down on us. He could not have been more than twelve yards away, or we should not have seen him in the darkness. “Come on!” and we were running over plough for dear life. “Halt!” On we raced. Then his first shot rang out. What a wicked crack it made, as the bullet struck the ground somewhere by my feet! I was doing better time than I had ever done on the wing in my footer days, and then the second bullet came just under my nose. I could feel the rush of air on my mouth. His third shot passed a foot or two above my head.

Where was my companion? A fourth shot and a heavy fall some distance behind me. “My God! they’ve got him!” Should I stop? No! it is each for himself now—that was understood. Then another shot rang through the night, somewhere a long way behind. The sentry was finishing my friend. Horrible! Still on I flew, to suddenly fall head over heels into a ditch. I was too done up to go any farther, and lay gasping for breath; but the spirit of self-preservation is a hard one to break, and before long I was calculating what I must do next. The light of dawn would soon be upon me. I must get to a better hiding-place for the coming day.

What’s that moving towards me? Is it my fancy? No. By gad! it’s a man, and he’s moving so slowly it must be the sentry; he is looking for me. He will walk almost on top of me. All right, my friend; if you miss me by a foot, I’ll strangle you from behind. The figure came on, was beside me; in a flash I was on his back and had laid him out. A familiar groan. Good heavens! it was my companion. I almost cried over him, but his temper had gone with the blow I had given him, and it was some time before he would have anything to do with me.

“I followed you as best I could,” he gasped, “and I thought I had lost you, and I haven’t the faintest idea where I am. That brute turned on to me after he had given you the first three. The first one hit me just under the heel and laid me flat, but I got up and rushed in the direction I thought you had taken. Then he fired again, but it was miles behind me.”

When my friend had sufficiently recovered his breath we started off again, and after a few hundred yards entered a region of decayed woods. Here we experienced great difficulty in advancing, owing to our exhausted condition, caused by the lack of food and the extreme cold. Continually we tripped over the stumps of trees in our path, to go sprawling full length over the other side, only to pick ourselves up in a dazed determination to press forward as long as any strength remained in us. Time after time we crashed to the ground in our blind progress, until finally the two of us fell over at the same spot, where we eventually decided to rest till the coming of dawn, which was just about to break.

Whilst we were resting it was gradually borne in upon us that we were not alone in the wood, as we could hear something rustling up to us through the undergrowth. As yet it was some distance away. Instinctively we got to our feet and stumbled on again, a little refreshed by our short rest. Once or twice we stopped in order to find out if we were being pursued, and discovered that every time we halted the person behind did the same. Evidently he must be trying to get our position by the noise we were making as we passed through the undergrowth, the fact of which he seemed to have taken full advantage, for it appeared to us that he was very much nearer than when we had first heard him.

Somehow we managed to move forward at a faster pace than we had done hitherto, and in doing so we passed through a small clearing, in which we noticed some bundles of cut faggots, and the idea struck me that they might possibly help us to evade our pursuer. Hurriedly seizing one or two of these faggots, we plunged into the undergrowth on the far side of the clearing; then stopped to get the direction of the man behind, who in his turn stood still, as soon as he discovered we were not moving. I then swung one of the heaviest faggots to our left, right over the top of the bushes. Immediately it landed the man started off in the direction of the noise it had made as it fell through. In the meantime we remained silently crouching in the bushes. Eventually we heard the man, or whatever it was, pass us to the left in the direction where I had thrown the faggot, and we heard no more of him.

It was broad daylight before we moved on again, and found that we had been resting within a few yards of the edge of the wood. In front of us there was an expanse of plough, but quite different to what we had previously seen. Here the fields were neatly trimmed; hedges divided one field from another; also the furrows were more regular, and not so far apart. My companion and I discussed the fact, and decided that it did not look at all like the work of the Boche, which led us to believe that we were really over at last. So we were, and had been for a couple of miles past, though of course we had no means of knowing it. We heard afterwards that the man in the wood to whom we had given the slip was a Dutch sentry. Oh! if we had only known it, we should most certainly have hugged him round the neck, and probably asked him for something to eat: not that we were in the least hungry; we had long ago passed that.

At the end of one of these ploughed fields we were brought to a halt by a broad ditch about thirty feet across, on the other side of which was a railway line. How on earth were we to get over this? Personally I sat down in despair, wondering in a dazed sort of way who put the beastly ditch there. My friend scouted to right and left for a bridge, but found nothing. On returning to me, he noticed that I was sitting on a long pole.

“Buck up, old man! that’s the very thing we want,” he said. “We can pole-jump it.” And so we did.

On the far side of the railway track we reached a small village, situated on a big main road. Crossing the road, we saw a line of trees running north and south as far as eye could see—beyond the trees a long white line, of what appeared to be mist. As we approached we discovered it to be a river. When we reached its margin, it was found to be about three hundred yards across.

“It’s the Meuse!” I shrieked, “and we’re over, man. We have been over three miles, and didn’t know it. Do you understand, you blockhead? We’re over! we’re free! we’ve escaped!”

Then I for one sat down and cried like a child. Very soon my companion decided that we must swim to the other side.

“Swim over that, in our condition! You must be mad! I tell you the Meuse does not run into Germany anywhere within a hundred miles of where we are.”

“Well,” he replied, “it will be safer the other side,” and he started to take his coat off.

“Don’t be a blithering idiot; you couldn’t swim that even if you were fit and strong. However, go ahead, old thing! I’ll watch you drown. I’m perfectly content to lie here for ever and ever.”