Soldiers were all about the place, and two automobiles stood before the
door. Motorcycles were lying on the ground. While Fred watched, two men
rode up on the snorting, crackling little machines and hurried into the
house.

This was undoubtedly the parsonage, now being used as the headquarters
of Colonel Goldapp. Fred's heart sank as he surveyed the place. It
seemed to him that there wasn't much chance that he could rescue Boris.
There were too many Germans about. Even though there was no reason for
the staff to anticipate an attack, he could guess that the place would
be well guarded. And yet he was here because he hoped that he would be
able, after seeing the parsonage, to devise some plan of getting Boris
away.

However, that was something to be attempted later, if at all. His chief
concern now was for the soldier he had thrown. And now he made his way
back, and found to his dismay that the man was beginning to recover his
senses. As Fred came back he stretched, yawned, and sat up, with the
most ludicrous mixture of fright and wonder in his eyes. Fred had his
gun, and at the sight of that the soldier spoke indignantly.

"Give me back my gun!" he said, testily. "It is against the rules for
anyone to touch my gun. If you let the corporal catch you with that,
there'll be trouble. I promise you!"

Fred had hard work to control his features. He wondered if the man was
really a little simple-minded, or if the effects of his fall still
confused him. He finally decided that both theories were right. For a
moment he hesitated, wondering what to do. He wanted to get back into
the passageway, and he did not want the German to see him doing it. As