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(Concluded from last week.)
SYNOPSIS.
CHAPTER I-Introductory. Pat O’Brien
tells of his purpose in writing the story
of his adventures.
CHAPTER II-Tells of his enlistment in
the Royal Flying corps, his training in
Canada and his transfer to France for ac-
tive duty.
CHAPTER III—Describes fights in which
he brought down two German airplanes
and his final fight in which he was
brought down wounded within the Ger-
man lines and was made a prisoner of
war.
CHAPTER IV—Discovers that German
hospital staff barbarously neglected the
fatally wounded and devoted their ener
gies to restoring those who might be
returned to the firing lines. Witnesses
death in fight of his best chum, Lieut.
Paul Rainey.
CHAPTER V—He is taken to the of-
cers’ prison camp at Courtrai. There he
egan planning his escape. By great sac-
rifice he manages to save and hide away
two daily rations of bread.
CHAPTER VI—He conflscates a map of
Germany and just half an hour later is
ut on a train bound for a prison camp
n Germany. He leaps through a window
while the train is traveling at a rate of 30
miles an hour.
CHAPTER VII-For njne days he
crawls through Germany, hiding during
the day, traveling at night, guided by tha
stars and subsisting on raw vegetables
He covers 7 miles before reaching Lux-
emburg.
CHAPTER VIII—Ior nine days more he
struggles on in a weakened condition
through Luxemburg in the direction of
Belgium.
After my meal was finished, I told
him in as simple language as I could
command of some of the experiences
I had gone through and I outlined my
future plans.
“You will never be able to get to
Holland,” he declared, “without a
passport. The nearer you get to the
frontier the more German soldiers
you will encounter, and without a
passport you will be a marked man.”
I asked him to suggest a way by
which I could overcome the difficulty.
He thought for several moments
and studied me closely all the time—
perhaps endeavoring to make abso-
il
| Gs
*You Can Hear and Talk If You Wish
—Am | Not Right?”
futely sure that I was not a German
spy—and then apparently deciding in
my favor, told me what he thought it
was best for me to do.
“If you will call on {his man”
{mentioning the name of a Belgian in
~———, a city through which I had to
pass), he advised, “you will be able to
make arrangements with him to se-
cure a passpors, and he will do every-
thing he can to get you out ¢f Bel-
plum.”
He told me where the man in ques-
tion could be found and gave me some
pseful directions to continue my jour-
ney, ana then he led me to the doer
1 thanked him a thousand times and
wanted to pay him for his kindness
and help but he would accept nothing.
He did give me his name and you may
be sure I shall never forget it, but to
mention it here might, of course, re-
sult in serious consequences for him.
‘When the war is over, however, or the
Germans are thrown out of Belgium,
I shall make it my duty to find that
kind Belgian if I have to go through
again all that I have suffered already
to do it.
CHAPTER XI. ~~
1 Encounter German Soldiers.
What the Belgian told me about
the need of a passport gave me fresh
cause for worry. Suppose I should
run into a German sentry before I
succeeded in getting one?
I decided that until I reached the
big city which the Belgian had men-
tioned—and which I cannot name for
fear of identifying some of the people
there who befriended me—I would
proceed with the _iitmost precaution.
OLTWITTING
“THE HEN'Z
LIELTENANT
AAT DBRIEN:
©7308, by PAT ALIA CBRIEIY
Since I had discarded my uniform
and had obtained civilian clothes, I
Last Photograph Taken of Lieutenant
O!Brien Before His Capture. With
Him Is His Chum, Lieutenant Raney.
had not been quite as careful as I was
at first. While I had done my trav-
eling at night. I had not gone into
hiding so early in the morning as
before and I had sometimes started
again before it was quite dark, rely-
ing upon the fact that I would prob-
ably be mistaken for a Belgian on his
way to or from work, as the case
might be. From now on, I resolved,
however, I would take no more
chances.
That evening I came to a river per-
haps seventy-five yards wide and I
was getting ready to swim it when I
thought I would walk a little way to
find, if possible, a better place to get
to the river from the bank. I had not
walked more than a few hundred
yards when I saw a boat. It was the
first time I had seen a boat in all my
experiences.
It was firmly chained, but as the
stakes were sunk in the soft bank it
was not much of a job to pull them
out. I got in, drank to my heart's
content, shoved over to the other side,
got out, drove a stake into the ground
and moored the boat. It would have
been a simple matter to have drifted
down the river, but the river was not
shown on the map and I had no idea
where it might lead me. Very reluc-
tantly, therefore, I had to abandon
the boat and proceed on foot.
I made several miles that night and
before daylight found a safe place in
which to hide for the day. From my
hiding place I could see through the
bushes a heavy thick wood only a
short distance away. I decided that
I would start earlier than usual, hurry
over to the wood and perhaps, in that
way, I could cover two or three miles
in the daytime and gain just so much
time. Traveling through the wood
would be comparatively safe. There
was a railroad going through the
wood, but I did not figure that that
would make it any the less safe.
About three o'clock that afternoon,
therefore, I emerged from my hiding
place and hurried into the wood.
After proceeding for half a mile or
so I came to the railroad. I took a
sharp look in both directions and see-
ing no signs of trains or soldiers, I
walked boldly over the tracks and
continued on my way.
I soon came upon a clegring and
knew that someone must be living in
the vicinity. As I turned a group of
trees I saw a small house and in the
distance an old man working in a
garden. I decided to enter the house
and ask for food, figuring the woman
would probably be old and would be
no match for me even if she proved
hostile. The old woman who came
to the door in response to my knock
was older than I expected. If she
wasn’t close to a hundred, I miss my
guess very much.
She could not speak English and §
could not speak Flemish, of course,
but nevertheless I made her under-
stand that I wanted something to eat.
She came out of the door and hol-
loed for her husband in a shrill voice
that would have done credit to a girl
of eighteen. The old man came in
from the garden and between the two
of them they managed to get the idea
that I was hungry and they gave me
a piece of bread—a very small piece
—which was quite a treat.
Cost to the Consumer of a Pound Loaf
of Bread.
(OST TO THE CONSUMER OF A POUND LOAF OF BREAD
i 4 TOICENTS
7 Sas adied to he cost
What the miller » “~J B the cost ser ed ou wie]
be (Dotted Portion. Eu .otes cost of confauner]
[05 1916
0
Roe oe eS Ss,
(EXPLANATION OF CHART)
Since 1918 farmers have been receiving for their wheat a gradually in-
creasing proportion of the price paid by the consumer for bread. The amount
received by the wheat grower for his contribution to the average pound has
increased from less than 1% cents per loaf in 1913 to more than 3% cents ear-
ly this year.
The proportion to the whole price is
shown by the relative
length of the black columns of the chart.
The middle portion of each column shows what
his milling costs and profit.
is now at the minimum (6 per cent).
the miller received for
This has been a somewhat variable factor, but
In this 6 per cent., however, is includ-
ed the cost of the containers (bags, sacks, etc.) shown as dotted area which
has increased very nearly in proportion to the price of bread itself. Bags
now cost about 50 per cent. more than in 1913 and 1914.
The shaded portion of the column represents the expense of distributing
the flour, making it into bread and getting the loaf to the consumer.
The chart shows that the farmer is now receiving a much larger share of
the final price for his product than in the past, and that a considerable
amount of “spread” has been taken out of other expenses.
The house they lived in consisted of
just two rooms—the kitchen and a
bedroom. The kitchen was perhaps
fourteen feet square, eight feet of
one side being taken up by an enor-
mous fireplace, What was in the bed-
‘room I had no way of telling, as I
did not dare to be too inquisitive.
I made the old couple understand
that I would like to stay in their house
all night, but the old man shook his
head. I bade them good-by and dis-
appeared into the woods, leaving them
to speculate as to the strange for-
eigner they had entertained.
From the great density of the popu-
lation in this section through which I
was now passing I realized that I
must be in the outskirts of the big
city which the Belgian had mentioned
and where I was to procure a pass-
port.
Village after village intercepted me,
and although I tried to skirt them
wherever possible I realized that I
would never make much progress if
I continued that course. To gain a
mile I would sometimes have to make
a detour of two or three. I decided
that I would try my luck in going
straight through the next village I
came to.
As I approached it, I passed num-
bers of peasants who were ambling
along the road. I was afraid to mingle
with them because it was impossible
for one to talk to them and it was
dangerous to arouse suspicion even
among the Belgians. For all I knew,
one of them might be treacherous
enough to deliver me to the Germans
in return for the reward he might be
sure of receiving.
About 9 o'clock that evening I
came to a point where ahead of me on
the right was a Belgian police station
—I knew it from its red lights—and
on the other side of the street were
two German soldiers in uniform
leaning against a bicycle.
Here was a problem which called
for instant decision; if I turned back
the suspicion of the soldiers would
be instantly aroused and if I crossed
the road so as not to pass so closely
to them they might be equally sus-
picious. I decided to march bravely
by the Huns, bluff my way through
and trust to Providence. If anybody
imagines, however, that I was at all
comfortable as I approached these
soldiers, he must think I am a much
braver man than I claim to be. My
heart beat so loud I was afraid they
would hear it. Every step I took
brought me so much nearer to what
might prove to be the end of all my
hopes. It was a nerve-racking ordeal.
I was now within a few feet of
them. Another step and—
They didn’t turn a hair! I passed
right by them—heard what they were
saying, although, of course, I didn’t
understand it, and went right on. I
can’t say I didn’t walk a little faster
as I left them behind, but I tried to
maintain an even gait so as not to
give them any idea of the inward ex-
ultation I was experiencing. No words
can explain, however, how relieved I
really felt—to know that I had suc-
cessfully passed through the first of
a series of similar tests which I real-
ized were in store for me—although
I did not know then how soon I was
to be confronted with the second.
As it was, however, the incident
gave me a world of confidence. It
demonstrated to me that there was
nothing in my appearance at any rate
to attract the attention of the German
soldiers. Apparently I looked like a
Belgian peasant, and if could only
work things so that I would never
have to answer questions and thus
give away my nationality, I figured I
would be tolerably safe.
As I marched along I felt so happy
I couldn’t help humming an air of one
of the new patriotic songs that we
used to sing at the airdrome back in
Ypres.
{ In this happy frame of mind I cov-
i ered the next three miles in about an |
! hour and then came to another little
village. My usual course would have
been to go around it—through fields,
back yards, woods or whatever else
lay in my way—but I had gained so
unsuspicious that I decided to try the
same stunt again.
I stopped humming and kept very
much on the alert, but apart from
that, I walked boldly through the
main street without any feeling of
alarm.
I had proceeded perhaps a mile
along the main street when I noticed
ahead of me three German soldiers
standing at the curb.
Again my heart started to beat fast,
I must confess, but I was not nearly
so scared as I had been an hour or
so before.
I walked ahead, determined to fol-
low my previous procedure in every
particular.
I had got to about fifteen feet away
from the soldiers when one of them
stepped onto the sidewalk and
shouted :
“Halt!”
My heart stopped beating fast—for
a moment, I believe, it stopped beating
altogether! I can’t attempt to de
scribe my feelings. I thought that
the jig was up—that all I had gone
through and all I had escaped would
now avail me nothing, mingled with
the feeling of disgust with my-
self because of the foolish risk I
had taken in going through the vil-
lage, combined to take all the starch
out of me, and I could feel myself
wilting as the soldier advanced to the
spot where I stood rooted in my
tracks.
I had a bottle of water in one pocket
and a piece of bread in the other, and
as the Hun advanced to search me I
held the bottle up in one hand and
the piece of bread in the other so that
he could see that was all I had.
It occurred to me that he would
“frisk” me—that is, feel me over for
arms or other weapons, then place
me under arrest and march me off to
the guardhouse. I had not the slight-
est idea but that I was captured and
there didn’t seem to be much use in
resisting, unarmed as I was and with
two other German soldiers within a
few feet of us.
Like a flash it suddenly dawned on
me, however, that for all this soldier
could have known I was only a Bel-
gian peasant and that his object in
searching me, which he proceeded to
do, was to ascertain whether I had
committed the common “crime” of
smuggling potatoes.
The Belgians were allowed only a
certain amount of potatoes, and it is
against the laws laid down by the
Huns te deal in vegetables of any
kind except under the rigid supervi-
sion of the authorities. Nevertheless,
it was one of the principal vocations
of the average poor Belgian to buy
potatoes out in the country from
peasants and then smuggle them into
the large cities and sell them clan-
destinely at a high price.
To stop this traffic in potatoes, the
German soldiers were in the habit of
subjeeting‘ the Belgians to frequent
search, and I was being held up by
this soldier for no other reason than
that he thought I might be a potato
smuggler!
. He felt of my outside clothes and
pockets, and finding no potatoes
seemed to be quite satisfied. Had he
but known who I was he could have
earned an iron eross! Or, perhaps, in
view of the fact that I had a heavy
water bottle in my uplifted hand, it
might have turned out to be a wooden
cross! .
He said something in German,
which, of course, I did not understand,
much time by going through the last |
village instead of detouring around |
it and my appearance seemed to be so |
and then some Belgian peasants came
along and seemed to distract his atten-
tion. Perhaps he had said: “It’s all :
right; you may go on,” or he may :
have been talking to the others in
Flemish, but at any rate, observing .
that he was more interested in the
others than he was in me at the mo-
ment, I put the bottle in my pocket |
and walked on.
After I walked a few steps, I tooka
furtive glance backward and noticed
the soldier who had searched me re-
Join his comrades at the curb and then '
stop another fellow who had come
along, and then I disappeared in the |
darkness.
I cannot say that the outcome of
this adventure left Joe in the same |
confident frame of mind that followed !
the earlier one. I was sure I had
come out of it all right, but I could
not help thinking what a terribly close
shave I had.
Suppose the soldier had questioned |
me! The ruse I had been following |
in my dealings with the Belgian peas- |
ants—pretending I was deaf and:
dumb—might possibly have worked |
here, too, but a soldier—a German |
soldier—might not so easily have been
fooled. It was more than an even
chance that it would have at least
aroused his suspicion and resulted in
further investigation. A search of
my clothing would have revealed a
lished my identity and all my shams |
ming of deafness would have availed |
me nothing. !
As I wandered along I knew that I |
was now approaching the big city |
which my Belgian friend had spoken
Searched by German Guards.
of and which I would have to enter
if I was to get the passport, and I
realized now how essential it was to
have something to enable me to get
through the frequent examinations
to which I expected to be subjected.
While I was still debating in my
mind whether it was going to be pos-
sible for me to enter the city that
night, I saw in the distance what ap-
peared to be an arc light, and as 1
neared it that was what it turned out
to be. Beneath the light I could
make out the forms of three guards,
and the thought of having to go
through the same kind of ordeal that
I had just experienced filled me with
misgivings, Was it possible that I
could be fortunate encugh to get by
again?
As I slowed up a little, trying to
make up my mind what was best to do,
I was ovirtaken by a group of Bel
glan women who were shuffling along
the road, and I decideG to mingic
with them and see if I couldn’t convey
the impression that I was one of
their party. .
As we approached the are light, the
gures of those three soldiers with
their spiked helmets loomesl before
like a regiment. I felt as if I were
walking right into the jaws of death.
Rather than go through what was in
store for me, I felt that I would in-
finitely prefer to be fighting again in
the air with those four desperate
Huns who had been the cause of my
present plight—then, at least, I
would -have a chance to fight back,
but now I had to risk my life -and
take what was coming to me without
a chance to strike a blow in my own
defense. .
I shall never forget my feelings as
we came within the shaft of light pro-
jected by that great arc light nor the
faces of those three guards as we
passed by them. I didn’t look directly
at them, but out of the corner of my
eye I never missed a detail. I held a
handkerchief up to my face as we
passed them and endeavored to imi-
tate the slouching gait of the Belgians
as well as I could, and apparently it
worked. We walked right by those
guards and they paid absolutely no
attention to us.
If ever a fellow felt like going down
on his knees and praying I did at that
moment, but it wouldn't have done to
show my elation or gratitude in that
conspicuous way.
It was then weil after 11 o'clock and
I knew it would be unsafe for me to
attempt to find a lodging plice in the
city, and the only thing for me to do
was to locate the man whose name the
Belgian had given me. He had given
me a good description ofl the street
and had directed me how to get there,
and I followed his instructions closely.
After walking the streets for abon:
half an hour, I came upon cne of the
landmarks my friend had deseribed to
— ———— -_r -
me and ten minutes afterwards I was
knocking at the door of the man who
was to make it possible for me to reach
Holland—and liberty! At least, that
was what I hoped.
CHAPTER XII.
The Forged Passport.
For obvious reasons, I cannot de-
scribe the man to whom I applied for
; the passport nor the house in which
he lived. While, in view of what sub-
sequently happened, I would not be
very much concerned if he got into
trouble for having dealt with me, I
realize that the hardships he had en-
dured in common with the other in-
habitants of that conquered city may
possibly have distorted his idea of
right and justice, and I shall not de-
liberately bring further disaster on
him by revealing his identity.
This man—we will call him Huy-
liger because that is as unlike his
name as it is mine—was very kind to
me on that memorable night when I
aroused him from his sleep and in a
few words of explanation told him of
my plight.
He invited me inside, prepared some
food for me and, putting on a dress-
ing gown, came and sat by me while I
ate, listening with the greatest inter-
est to the short account of my adven-
tures.
He could speak English fluently, and
he interrupted me several times to ex-
press his sympathy for the sufferings
I had endured.
“O’Brien,” he said, after I had con-
cluded my story, “I am going to help
you. It may take several days—per-
haps as leng as two weeks—but event-
ually we will provide the means to en-
able you to get to Holland.”
I thanked him a thousand times and
told him that I didn’t know how I
could possibly repay him.
“Don’t think of that,” he replied;
“the satisfaction of knowing that I
have aided in placing one more victim
of the Huns beyond their power to
harm will more than repay me for all
the risk I shall run in helping you.
You'd better turn in now, O’Brien, and
in the morning I'll tell you what I plan
to do.”
As I removed my clothes and noticed
that my knees were still swollen to
twice their normal size, that my left
ankle was black and blue from the
wrench I had given it when I jumped
from the train and that my ribs showed
through my skin, I realized what a lot
I had been through. As s matter of
fact, I could not have weighed more
than one hundred and fifty pounds at
that time, whereas I had tipped the
scales at one hundred and ninety when
I was with my squadron in France.
I lost no time in getting into bed
and still less in getting to sleep. I
don’t know what I dreamed of that
night, but I had plenty of time to go
through the experiences of my whole
life, for when I was aroused by a
knock on the door and Xiuyliger en-
tered in response to my invitation to
enter, he told me that it was nearly
noon! I had slept for almost twelve
hours.
I cannot say that the thought did
not run through my head that per-
haps after all I was living in a fool’s
paradise, and that when Huyliger re-
appeared it would be with a couple of
German soldiers behind him, but I dis-
missed such misgivings summarily, re-
alizing that I was doing Huyliger an
injustice to let such things enter my
head even for an instant. I had no
right to doubt his sincerity and it
would do me no good to entertain such
suspicions. If he was going to prove
treacherous to me, I was powerless
any way to cope with him.
In a few moments my host reap-
peared with a tray containing my
breakfast. I don’t suppose I shall ever
forget that meal. It consisted of a
cup of coffee—real coffee, not the kind
I bad had at Courtrai—several slices of
bread, some hot potatoes and a dish
of scrambled eggs.
Every mouthful of that meal tasted
like angel-food to me and Huyliger
sat on the edge of the bed and watched
me enjoying it, at the same time out-
lining the plans he had made for my
escape.
Continued next week) .
Save Wheat in Farm and Home.
Philadelphia, August 28.—Much
has been said about the saving of
wheat by the housewife, and the
American people have responded no-
bly to the call of the Federal Food
Administration. However, wheat can
be saved on the farm as well as in
the kitchen. The Food Administra-
tion has given out an official test for
the clean threshing of wheat, and by
following this rule any farmer can
test the work of the threshing ma-
chine he owns or which he has hired.
The test is made by directing the
straw blower against a blanket, sheet
or canvas during the time the weigh-
ing device trips five times, recording
two and one-half bushels. If over
one pint of wheat is winnowed from
the straw on the canvas, bad work is
indicated. One and one-half pints in-
dicates a loss of one per cent.
If more than three pints is found—
which means a two per cent loss—
reasonable time should be given to
correct the bad operation and a sec-
ond test should be made. If improve-
ment is not secured, steps should be
taken through the County Threshing
committee to discontinue operations
until the avoidable waste is corrected.
Most threshing committees have
formulated detailed rules for the
guidance of threshing crews in effec-
tively stopping waste of grain. But
more effective than the rules and reg-
ulations, the Food Administration be-
lieves, has been the eagerness with
which farmers and threshermen have
accepted their harvest-time responsi-
bility and the diligence with which
they are now stopping every source
of grain waste.
—~Subseribe for the “Watchman.”