‘Soh!’ he said, with a evil smile, ’my young friends, the spies!  Achmet’—­this to the corporal—­’you have done well.  I will see that your conduct and that of your sergeant is recommended in the proper quarter.’

He turned to his companion.

‘Ober-lieutenant von Steegman,’ he said formally.  ’The prisoners are those of whom I spoke last night to Colonel Henkel.  Disguised in the overcoats of Turkish soldiers, they contrived to destroy one of our quick-firers, and to-day they were discovered hiding in a wood behind our lines.  They had, it appears, been plundering our wounded, for food and a Turkish rifle were found in their possession.’

Ken could not speak German, but he knew enough of the language to gather the meaning of the man’s infamous accusations.  ‘Liar!’ he burst in.  ’We were never in Turkish uniform.  As for the gun, we took it in fair fight, and as—­’

At a sign from Hartmann, Achmet, the corporal, struck Ken across the mouth.

[Illustration:  ‘Roy brought them down on the man’s head.’]

It was probably the last thing he ever did in his life, for Roy, raising his shackled hands, brought them down upon the man’s head with such fearful force that he dropped like a log, the blood gushing from his mouth and ears.

Instantly all was confusion.  Hartmann sprang to his feet, shouting out furious orders.  Two of the guard seized Roy and flung him to the ground, two more laid hands on Ken.  Another drew his bayonet, and Ken saw it flash in the evening sunlight before his very eyes.

It was Von Steegman who sprang forward and seized the man’s arm just in time.

‘No.  Leave him alone,’ he cried harshly.  ’The colonel has left express orders that he wishes to see these men before they are executed.  Stand aside!  It is only a short delay.  They will both be shot at sundown.’

Von Steegman, if a brute, had ten times the physical power and moral force of Hartmann.  The man obeyed at once, and in a few moments order was restored.  Two men carried away the insensible form of Achmet, Roy watching with a grim smile.

Ken had hardly thought of his own danger.  His lips were bleeding, and the foul blow had for the moment rendered him perfectly reckless.

’Is this the way you treat prisoners? he thundered, his eyes blazing.  ’Small wonder a people who do such things are despised by every other nation on earth!’

‘Himmel, you dare to talk like that?’ snarled back Hartmann.  ’You, a private soldier, venture such insolence to an officer?’

Ken was already ashamed of his outburst.

‘An officer!’ he said with bitter contempt, ’or do you mean a bathroom steward?’

Hartmann’s sallow face went livid with excess of rage.  He bit his lip till the blood showed upon it in a thin red line.

’You will sing a different song when you stand before the muzzles of the firing party,’ he said in a grating voice.