Upon such occasions I and my two Hindoo companions were compelled to stand at attention.  At first I regarded the incident with amusement, but after we had been through the circus-like performance about a dozen times, it became distinctly irksome, especially as I was dog-tired.  It was with the greatest difficulty I maintained my self-control.

About four o’clock in the morning I heard voices in the adjoining room.  Evidently someone in authority had arrived.  I decided to seize the opportunity to secure an interview with one who at least would be able to give me some satisfaction.  I moved smartly towards the door.  The sentry lowered his rifle, but I evaded the bayonet, I saw a flash and then all was darkness.

Some time later I woke up.  I was lying at full length upon the floor and my head was singing like a kettle, while it ached fearfully.  I opened my eyes but for some minutes could descry nothing but stars.  As I came round I made out the dim forms of the two Hindoo students bending over me.  They were extremely agitated, but their peace of mind became restored somewhat when I at last sat up.  Then they explained what had happened.  After I had dodged the bayonet the soldier had swung his rifle round bringing the butt end smartly down upon my head and had knocked me silly.  From the pain I suffered and the size of the lump which I could feel I tacitly agreed that I had received a pretty smart rap.

I felt round for the tin of cigarettes which I had extemporised to form a pillow before the incident, but was suddenly reminded that smoking was very much verboten.  Regarding the tin longingly I absent-mindedly opened it.  To my surprise I found that the fifty cigarettes which it had originally contained had dwindled down to one!  I looked at the sentry and smiled quietly to myself.  Rising to my feet I held out the open tin to him.

“You’ve been helping yourself while I have been asleep and I think you might as well take the last one,” I muttered sarcastically.

The phlegmatic sentry looked at me cunningly.  His face lapsed into a broad grin.  Growling “danker!” (thank you!) he calmly took it and lighted up.  From this incident I discovered that even a thick-skulled, dull-witted German infantryman has a bump of humour.

The din which still reigned around the station told me that the crowd was impatient to see me.  In fact Bedlam appeared to have been let loose.  The news of my capture had spread through Wesel like wildfire, and public animosity and hostility towards me had risen to fever-heat.  During the night the crowd had swollen considerably, and it clung tenaciously to the station in the hope of having some glorious fun at my expense.