My socks were in fine shape, but Ted’s began to show signs of dissolution.  The heels were gone, and the toe of one was broken and going.  His feet were sore and blistered, and he sat long looking at the perfidious socks which had failed him so soon.  Then he had a plan—­he would make himself a pair out of the sleeves of his undershirt.  To me was given the delicate task of cutting off the sleeves with rather a dull knife, which I managed to do with some difficulty, and, with a thorn for a needle and wool from the socks for thread, a pair of socks were constructed.  The thorn was too soft and doubled back, so Ted sharpened a piece of hard wood, and with it made the holes for the yarn.

From our shelter in the willows we could see a ferry-boat carrying people across the river, and sometimes people passed along the sandy shore quite near to us, but the willows were thick and we were not discovered.  Two big freight steamers also passed by us.

That night we went cautiously down the bank looking for a boat.  We could swim the river, but a boat would suit us better, for the night was chilly and dark.  Before we had gone far, we found one tied in the rushes.  But the oars were locked to the bottom of the boat, and we had to cut them loose with our pen-knives, which took quite awhile, for the wood was hard!

When we got across the Weser we found plenty of cows.  Some of them were fickle jades who would let us almost touch them, and would then sniff at us in disapproval and leave us.  Others would not consider our case for a moment.  They were not going to run any danger of giving aid and comfort to the enemy!  But one good old one with a crooked horn took pity on us, and again we felt better.

The fields were divided by hedges, made of a closely-leaved green shrub, somewhat resembling—­in the leaf—­our buckthorn.  It was very thick and very green, and we crawled into one of these on the morning of the fourth day, glad of such a good shelter.  However, there was no room to move—­or stand up.  The hedge being low made it necessary to lie down all day.  Still, we were well satisfied with the hot milk, and slept most of the day.

Waking up suddenly, I heard a whistle, and, without moving, could see a man’s legs coming toward us.  Then a dog, white with black markings, darted past him, and, to my horror, stood not six feet from me.  We stopped breathing—­we shut our eyes for fear we might wink—­we effaced ourselves—­we ceased to be—­I mean we wished we could.

The dog came nearer—­I could hear his soft footfalls—­I knew the brute was stepping high—­as they do when they see something.  I knew his tail was going straight out behind—­he was pointing!

The man walked by, whistling—­but the dog stayed!

Then I heard the man call him—­insisting that he come—­making remarks about his lack of sense.  It sounded like “Come here, you fool!” The dog, with a yelp of disapproval, did as he was told, but I could hear him barking as he ran along—­in a hurt tone.  His professional pride had been touched!