was one of the local inhabitants. For this respite from constant
inquisition I was indebted to the dust, grime and sweat that
covered me. It blurred out all distinction between myself and the
peasants, forming a perfect protective coloration.

To slide past so many guards so easily was a net gain indeed.
However, the end of such easy passing came at the edge of
Charrate, where the driver turned into his yard, and I was dumped
down into an encampment of soldiers. Acting on the militarists'
dictum that the best defensive is a strong offensive I pushed my
way boldly into the midst of a group gathered round a pump and
made signs that I desired a drink. At first they did not understand,
or, thinking that I was a native Belgian, they were rather taken
aback by such impertinence; but one soldier handed me his cup
and another pumped it full. I drank it, and, thanking them, started
off. This calm assurance gained me passage past the guard, who
had stood by watching the procedure. In the next six hundred
yards I was brought to a standstill by a sudden "Halt!" At one of the
posts some soldiers were ringed around a prisoner garbed in the
long black regulation cassock of a priest. Though he wore a white
handkerchief around his arm as a badge of a peaceful attitude, he
was held as a spy. His hands and his eyes were twitching
nervously. He seemed to be glad to welcome the addition of my
company into the ranks of the suspects, but he was doomed to
disappointment, for I was passed along. The next guard took me
to his superior officer directly. But the superior officer was the
incarnation of good humor and he was more interested in a little
repast that was being made ready for him than in entering into the
questions involved in my case.