rifle and fight for our Kaiser and Fatherland?"

John shook his head and put on the preternaturally wise look of the
light-witted.

"I'm no soldier," he replied.

"Why weren't you called? You're of the right age."

"A little weakness of the heart. I cannot endure the great strain, but I
can drive the cattle."

"Oh, well, if that is so, you serve us better by sticking to your trade.
Lieutenant Schmidt, give him food and drink, and then I'll prepare for
him a pass through the lines that will take him part of the way to Metz.
He'll have to get other passes as he goes along."

John saluted and thanked Colonel Stratz, and then he and Lieutenant
Schmidt approached one of the great German kitchen automobiles. It was
easy to play the rôle of a simple and honest peasant, and while he drank
good beer and ate good cheese and sausage, he and Lieutenant Schmidt
became quite friendly.

Schmidt asked him many questions. He wanted to know if he had been near
the French lines, and John laughingly replied that he had been
altogether too near. Three rifle bullets fired from some hidden point
had whizzed very close to him, and he had run for his life.

"I shall take care never to get lost again," he said, "and I intend to
keep well behind our army. The battle line is not the place for Jean