We wakened just as the light began to show in the east, and, stiff and cold, with our teeth chattering, we started on our way to find some means of getting across the Kinzig.  Bridge, boat, or raft, anything would do us, provided only it came soon, before the daylight.

In a few minutes we came to a foot-bridge, with a well-beaten path running down to it and up the opposite bank.  So we made a dash across it.  We knew enough, though, to get off the path at once, for we could see it was a well-travelled one.  We struck into the wood, keeping our southerly direction, but soon came out on another road, and as the light was too strong now for us, we went back into the woods and kept hidden.

That was Wednesday, October 6th.  Again it rained; not in showers this time with redeeming shots of sunshine, but a dull, steady, miserable rain that wet us clear through to the skin.  Still, we ate our cheese and bread, and opened a tin of sardines, and managed to put the day in.  We were near a town, and could hear people driving by all day long.  We were kept so on the alert that we had no time to feel uncomfortable.  However, we were very glad when the darkness came and we could stretch our legs and get warm again.

We had great difficulty to clear the town and the railway yards ahead of us, but at last found a road leading south, and followed it through the forest.  In one place, as I was going along ahead, intent on keeping the road, which seemed to be heaped up in the middle, I heard a cry behind me, and almost jumped across the road in my excitement.  Instinctively I began to run, but a second cry arrested me, for it was Bromley’s voice.  I ran back and found he had fallen into a hole in the road.  The heaped-up appearance I had noticed was the dirt thrown out of a six-foot drain, in which they were laying water-pipes, and into this Bromley had fallen.  He was not hurt at all, but jarred a little by the fall.

We knew we had passed the Hesse boundary, and were now in Bavaria.

Our one beer-bottle did not hold nearly enough water, and in our long walk through the forest on this night we suffered from thirst.  We had thought we should be able to find cows to milk, but on account of the people living in villages, there was but little chance of this.

When we got out of the forest we found ourselves in an open country.  We came to a good-sized stream, and crossed the bridge and to our horror found ourselves in a town of considerable size.  The streets were dark, but from one or two windows lights shone.  We pushed rapidly on, and thought we were nearly through, when a little upstart of a fox-terrier came barking out at us from a doorway.  We stepped into a space between two houses, and just then a cat crossed the street and he transferred his attentions to her.

“I always did like cats,” Bromley whispered.