We discovered that by climbing on to the frame of the iron bedstead, and clutching perilously at the ventilating portion of the window in our cell, we could just succeed in gaining a glimpse of the street. To the right we seemed to be in the neighbourhood of a zoological garden or an aviary of some dimension. The only inhabitant of the cages visible to us, however, was a large vulture, which sat there day after day, an unchanging picture of sullenness and stolidity. I wondered if perchance it scented or visioned the red fields which lay not so many miles away. And so the days passed. After considerable agitation I succeeded in securing a few volumes of the Tauchnitz edition, amongst them Stevenson’s “The Master of Ballantrae.” This possibly, however, induced in me a greater home-sickness for Scotland than ever. [Illustration: THE UNTEROFFIZIER.] Finding a draught-board to our hand outlined upon the table, and making counters of paper white and blue, we four prisoners on a day played for the championship of the cell and a superadded stake of four thin slices of bread. I won somewhat easily, being a Scotsman, and something of a player as a boy; indeed, heaven forgive me! it was I who suggested the game. As victor, however, I was seized with compassion and compunction, so that, while I retained the title, I returned to each man his share of that staff of life, on which, it has to be confessed, we were having to lean somewhat heavily. At last came the order that we were to shift from the hotel to the _Offizier kriegsgefangenenlager_. Whereupon, clapping my steel helmet upon my head, and thrusting my uneaten morsel of bread into one of my tunic pockets, I was ready for the road. [Illustration: CHRISTMAS DAY AT CARLSRUHE.] * * * * * [Illustration: ARRIVAL OF THE PARCEL CART.] II LIFE AT CARLSRUHE LAGER As we passed a sentry and turned in between high palisades heavily fortified by barbed wire, I had a feeling of disappointment, if not of dismay. I had hoped to live more closely to Nature, whereas Carlsruhe Camp lay in a central part of the town, and was overlooked at almost every point by high buildings, hotels, restaurants, and mansions. The few trees were, of course, meantime bare of leaves, and there were no traces of grass in the long stretches of court between the huts. In the _salon d’appel_ we were searched. My sketch-book was scrutinized, critically, perhaps, but not uncharitably, and I was permitted to keep it. Of what other poor possessions I now had, only my signalling whistle was taken. Dinner that night consisted of soup, followed by _Sauerkraut_. Breakfast next morning, in my case, consisted of a cold shower bath and anticipations of lunch at midday!