“What are we to do, then?  I certainly won’t let them take me out and shoot me without a fight.”

“No more will I,” declared Chester.  “I would rather be killed fighting than to be taken out and stood up against a wall.”

“Then if it comes to the worst we will pitch into the guards when they come to take us out and fight until the end,” said Hal.

“We will,” agreed Chester.  “It would be a much more pleasant death.  I don’t think much of walking out and standing over my own grave and letting somebody shoot at me without a chance to fight back.”

They continued their conversation well into the night.

As the first rays of sunlight filtered into their cell a key turned gratingly in the rusty lock of the door.  Captain Derevaux and Lieutenant Anderson, who now appeared to have been sleeping with one eye open, were on their feet immediately, and the four friends faced the door.

Slowly the huge door swung outward and a grinning apparition appeared in the doorway, carrying a vessel of water and a loaf of bread.  It was an old, old negro, and he shuffled forward haltingly.  Just outside the door could be seen half a dozen German soldiers.

Hal and Chester stared at the old negro in speechless amazement.  The sight of the old darky carried them back across the sea to the home of Hal’s Virginia uncle.  They forgot their danger for a moment, gazed at each other and broke into a laugh.

The old negro looked at them in surprise, and with ruffled dignity.  He placed the water and bread upon the table, and drawing himself up, pointed to them and then commanded: 

“Essen!”

It was too much for the two lads and they broke into another loud guffaw.

“Well, what do you think of that!” exclaimed Chester.  “Here’s what looks like an old plantation negro, and he speaks German.”

“Funniest thing I ever heard,” gasped Hal between bursts of laughter.

At their words, an expression of amazement passed over the old negro’s face.

“Lawdy!  Lawdy!” he exclaimed, a wide grin spreading itself over his features; “if dese two chilluns ain’t ’Mericans,” and advancing toward them he demanded: 

“What yo’al doin’ hyah?  Dey tol’ me dey dun captured fo’ spies!”

Hal explained briefly.

The old negro rolled his eyes in gaping wonder at the recital.

“Can’t you help us, uncle?” asked Chester, as Hal completed his story.

Frightened, the old darky looked around; then began slowly to back toward the door of the cell, just beyond which stood the line of soldiers.

“Yo’al jes’ wait,” he spoke in a hoarse whisper.  “Ol’ Uncle Billy’ll see what he c’n do.”

He backed out of the cell as he finished and the door clanged behind him.

“It seems that we have at least one friend,” remarked Hal, after Uncle Billy had gone.

“But what can he do to help us?” demanded the young French captain.