That afternoon as we lay in the hedge, we saw a company of school-children running toward us.  I think it was the afternoon recess, and they came running and shouting straight for the hedge.  I could only see their feet from where I lay, but it seemed to me that there were a large number.  They stopped in the field on the right of where we lay, and played some game—­I was too excited to notice what it was.  Sometimes it brought them close to the hedge, and then they ran away again.  It may have been a ball-game.

We were cold and hot by turns, watching the feet that advanced and receded, and were coming at us again, racing this time as if to see who would reach the hedge first, when a sudden downpour of rain came on—­and they ran back!  We heard the voices growing fainter in the distance, and registered a vow that if we got out of this place alive we would not trust in a hedge again.  Dogs and children seemed to be our greatest dangers!

When we began our journey that night, we crossed a light railway, one of those which on the map was indicated with light lines, and which, sure enough, had only dirt ballast.  Ahead of us was another railway track with lights, which we determined to leave alone.  The lights of the two towns, Delmenhorst and Gunderksee, shone against the western sky, and we kept to the south to avoid them.  The going was difficult on account of the settlement, and we had to be watching all the time for travellers.  There were a lot of people out that night who might better have been at home—­and in bed!

We were glad to take refuge before daylight in an extensive wood.  We had a few turnips, which we ate.  The day was spent as usual trying to dry our socks and get our feet in shape for the night, but the rain came down hard, and when we started out at dusk we were soaking wet.

We at once got into a forest, a great dark, quiet forest, where fugitives could hide as long as they liked, but which furnished no food of any kind.  In the small clearings we came upon herds of cattle, but they were all young, with not a cow among them.  This was one of the planted forests of Germany, where a sapling is put in when a big tree is taken out, to conserve the timber supply.  No one would know that it had been touched by man, except for the roads which ran through it.  There was no waste wood; there were no stumps, no hacked trees, no evidences of fire—­such as I have often seen in our forests in British Columbia.  The Germans know how to conserve their resources!

There was no wind or stars, and there were so many roads crossing and dividing, that it was hard for us to keep our direction.  Toward morning it began to rain, and soon the wet bushes, as well as the falling rain, had us wet through.