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.
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