“Hold your tongue,” said the officer harshly, “or I will shoot you down where you stand.”

At that moment another officer hurried up and saluted the captain.

“You sent for me, sir?” he asked.

“Yes; this boy is a German spy.  I have positive proof.  Have him shot at sunrise.”

“Very well, sir,” replied the lieutenant; then to Chester:  “Come!”

“But—­” began the lad.

“No words,” said the lieutenant.  “Forward—­march!”

Chester saw it was no use to protest, so he marched ahead of the lieutenant without another word.  He was taken to a small tent, thrust in, and a trooper ordered to mount guard over him.  Wearily the lad threw himself down, and, in spite of his predicament, was soon asleep.

It was just beginning to grow light when he was rudely awakened by someone shaking him by the arm.  Five minutes later and he was marched from his tent between a file of soldiers.

As he walked rapidly along between his captors, he suddenly espied an officer approaching on horseback.  Even from where he was, in the dim light Chester recognized the horseman, and his spirits rose.  It was plainly apparent that the rider would pass within a few feet of him.

A moment more, and he was close enough to the mounted officer to touch his horse.  Suddenly the lad sprang forward and cried: 

“General Givet!  General Givet!”

The mounted officer pulled up his horse sharply.  At the same moment the officer in charge of the squad sprang forward and grasped Chester roughly by the arm.

“Get back there!” he commanded sharply, but the boy paid no heed.

“General Givet!” he called again, and laughed happily aloud as the general turned his horse and came squarely up to him.

“Why, by my soul!” exclaimed the Belgian commander after a sharp look at the boy, “if it isn’t young Crawford!  What are you doing here?”

“They are going to shoot me as a spy, general,” said Chester.

“What!” exclaimed the commander.  “You a spy!”

He turned to the lieutenant in command of the squad.

“By whose order, sir?” he demanded.

“Captain Bassil’s order, sir,” was the reply.

“Captain Bassil, eh?  Well, you will conduct your prisoner to my quarters.  Then you will inform Captain Bassil that I desire his presence immediately.”

The lieutenant saluted, and the general rode off.

Ten minutes later, in the general’s quarters, Chester was face to face with his accuser.

“Well, sir,” said General Givet to Captain Bassil, “what was your reason for ordering this lad shot?  You will please explain yourself at once.”

The captain shifted uneasily from one foot to another.

“I was sure he was a spy, sir,” he made reply.  “Why else should he be spooking about your tent at such an hour in the morning?  But if I have made a mistake—­”