“Halt!” said the officer, whom John judged to be a Saxon—­he had seen his kind in Dresden and Leipsic.

John stopped obediently, and raised his hand in a clumsy military fashion, standing there while they looked him over.

“Now you can come forward, still with your hands up,” said the officer, though not in any fierce manner, “and tell us who you are.”

John advanced, and they quickly searched him, finding no weapon.

“You can take your hands down,” said the officer.  “Unarmed, I don’t believe you’d be a match for our rifles.  Now, who are you?”

“Jean Castel, sir, of Lorraine,” replied John in German with a strong French accent.

“And what have you been doing here between our lines and those of the French?”

“I took some cattle across the mountains for the army and having sold them I was walking back home.  In the storm last night I wandered through the lines into this very rough country and got lost.”

“You do look battered.  But you say you sold your cattle.  Now what have you done with your money?”

The officer’s tone had suddenly become suspicious, but John was prepared.  Opening his heavy blouse he took from an inside pocket a handful of German gold and notes.  The young lieutenant glanced at the money and his suspicions departed.

“It’s good German,” he said, “and I don’t think a peasant like you could have got it unless he had something valuable to sell.  Come, you shall go back with us and I’ll turn you over to a higher officer.  I’m Lieutenant Heinrich Schmidt, and we’re part of a Saxon division.”

John went with them without hesitation.  In fact, he felt little fear.  There was nothing to disprove his statements, and he was not one of those who looked upon Germans as barbarians.  Experience had shown him that ordinary Germans had plenty of human kindness.  He sniffed the pleasant odors that came from the kitchen automobiles near by, and remarked naively that he would be glad to share their rations until they passed him on.

“Very well, Castel,” said Lieutenant Schmidt, “you shall have your share, but I must take you first to our colonel.  He will have important questions to ask you.”

“I’m ready,” said John in an indifferent tone.  But as he went with the men he noted as well as he could, without attracting attention to himself, the German position.  Rifle pits and trenches appeared at irregular intervals, but the mountains themselves furnished the chief fortifications.  In such country as this it would be difficult for either side to drive back the other, a fact which the enemies themselves seemed to concede, as there was no firing on this portion of the line.  But at points far to the west the great guns muttered, and their faint echoes ran through the gorges.

The path led around one of the crests, and they came to a little cluster of tiny huts, which John knew to be the quarters of officers.  Snug, too, they looked, with smoke coming out of stovepipes that ran through the roofs of several of them.  A tall man, broad of shoulder, slender of waist, blue of eye, yellow of hair, and not more than thirty, came forward to meet them.  John recognized at once a typical German officer of high birth, learned in his trade, arrogant, convinced of his own superiority, but brave and meaning to be fair.