* * *

The running of the Russians began again—­but behind the trees, where we could not see them... but we could hear...

There are some things it were well we could forget!

The running of the Russians ceased only when no more came in from the farms.  Those who had been put out came out of the Revier in a day or so—­some in a few hours—­pale and spiritless, and were sent back to work again.  They had the saddest-looking faces I ever saw—­old and wistful, some of them; others, gaping and vacant; some, wild and staring.  They would never resist again—­they were surely broken!  And while these men would not do much for the “Fatherland” in the way of heavy labor, they would do very well for exchanges!

[Illustration:  Friedrichsfeld Prison-Camp in Summer]

CHAPTER XX

ONCE AGAIN!

As the days began to shorten, Edwards and I began to plan our escape.  We had the maps, the one he had bought at Vehnemoor and the one I had made.  We had the compass, which we had kept hidden in a very small crack in the sloping roof of the hut, and the Red Cross suits had come, and were dark blue and quite unnoticeable except for the piece of brown cloth sewed on the sleeve.  Mine had Russian buttons on it, which I had put on to have for souvenirs—­and which I have since had made into brooches for my sisters.

On the map which Edwards had bought at Vehnemoor, the railways were marked according to their kind:  the double-tracked, with rock ballast, were heavily lined; single-tracked with rock ballast, were indicated by lighter lines; single-tracked, with dirt ballast, by lighter lines still.  I knew, from the study of maps, every stream and canal and all the towns between us and the border.  On the map which I had drawn myself, from one I got from the Canadian artist at Giessen, I had put in all the railways and the short spur lines of which there are so many in northern Germany.

We knew that when a railway line ended without reaching another line, it was a good indication that the soil was valueless, and therefore there would be no settlement of any account.  Through such districts we would direct our way.

We began to prepare for our flight by adopting a subdued manner, such as becomes discouraged men.  We were dull, listless, sad, rarely speaking to each other—­when a guard was present.  We sat around the hut, morose and solemn, sighing often, as men who had lost hope.

But we were thinking, all the time, and getting ready.

I had a fine toffee tin, with a water-tight lid, which had come to me in a parcel from Mr. Robert McPherson, Aberdeen, Scotland, whose brother-in-law, Mr. Alec Smith, of Koch Siding, was a friend of mine.  This can, being oval in shape, fitted nicely into my pocket, and we decided to use it for matches.

Edwards had a sun-glass, which we thought we would use for lighting our pipes when the sun was shining, and thus conserve our supply of matches.