We had saved up a lot of things from our parcels, thinking that our manner of escape might be such that we could take them with us.  A working party such as we were on made it impossible to carry anything, for we were in great danger of being searched.  Whenever the Commandant thought of it, he ordered a search.  Just as the Commandant at Giessen was keen on rings, so this one went in for searching.  We were searched at unexpected times—­going out to work or coming in—­at meal-times or at bedtime.

The following day—­Sunday—­we sat around with our saddest, most dejected air, like two men in whose hearts all hope had died.  We had everything ready—­razor, tobacco, matches, toffee tin, toothbrush, comb, pocket-knife, watch, soap, strong safety-pins, and some strong string.  Edwards had the sun-glass, shaving-soap and brush, and other things to correspond with mine.

It was quite a grief to us to have to leave behind us all the things we had been saving from our parcels.  The people of Trail, British Columbia, had sent parcels to all their prisoners, and one of mine had followed me from Giessen to Vehnemoor and from Vehnemoor to Parnewinkel, and at last had found me.  It contained, among other things, hard-tack biscuits, just the thing for carrying in our pockets, and my aunts in Ontario had sent me some line dried beef and tins of jam.  At this time, also, an exceptionally good box came from Miss Ray, of London, England, and home-made candy from Miss Dorothy Taylor, of New Westminster, British Columbia.  We had a regular blow-out on Sunday, but were too much afraid of being searched to risk taking anything with us beyond the necessary things, and so had to leave our precious stores behind.  Oh, well—­they wouldn’t go to waste!

Monday morning we dragged our tired feet along the four miles to the turnip-patch—­with every appearance of complete submission.  I had the compass in the middle of a package of tobacco; my maps were still in the pay-book case in my pocket.

We gave ourselves up to the joy of labor, and pulled weeds all day with great vigor.  We wanted to behave so well that they wouldn’t notice us.  Of course we were not sure that any chance would come.  We might have to carry our stuff for several days before we should get a chance.

That night we came into the kitchen again and sat down at the long table.  Every one was hungry and fell to eating without a word.  No wonder the guard thought he had a quiet, inoffensive gang whose only thought at that moment was fried potatoes.  The potatoes were good, hot from the frying-pan, and we ate as many as we could, for we believed it might be a long time before we again sat at a table.

The guard, at last, satisfied that we were all right, strolled into the next room—­a sort of dining- and living-room, where the family were eating.  We could hear fragments of conversation and some laughter, and it seemed a good time to slip away!  We crowded down a few more fried potatoes, and then leisurely left the table and looked out of the window.