Tom told in detail just what had happened since he had fallen into the hands of the Huns. He had been taken from place to place and treated with the greatest harshness. Everywhere he had witnessed scenes of bloodshed and cruelty. The Spartacides had spared neither age nor sex. They had seemed possessed with a lust for murder. Their bloody work had a fit emblem in their red flag. Tom's familiarity with the language had not been great enough to understand all that was said in the conferences that he frequently overheard, though he had picked up enough to know that murder and riot were being planned on an extensive scale in the district occupied by the American Army. Some of the Germans in the mob had lived previously in America, from which they came to serve in the German Army when war had been declared and while the United States was still neutral, and these men, Tom said, were among the bitterest of all. Often in their off hours they would come and stand in front of his cell and tell him blood curdling stories of what they had been doing and of what they were going to do to him also. They had spoken freely, for they regarded him as good as dead, and some of the information he had gained from the talk of these miscreants was regarded as of great value by the lieutenant, whose pen fairly flew over the paper at some points in Tom's narrative. At last Tom had told the lieutenant all he knew, and after thanking him the officer dismissed him. He was witness to some touching sights as he made his way back to his companions. There were mothers embracing their sons, wives weeping with joy in the arms of their husbands who had been Tom's companions in the grim march that morning to the rear wall where they were to face death. But there were no fresh stains on that wall this morning, and the graves remained undug, though here and there were seen the first marks of spades where the wretched victims had begun to dig. It had been a close call, and Tom involuntarily shuddered. The cool air that he drew into his lungs had never seemed so sweet to him as now. He found the Army Boys looking with great interest at a spade which they held out to him as they approached. "Here's a souvenir, old boy," grinned Billy. "It's the one you lammed into the Huns with," explained Bart. "My, but that was a mighty wallop. They went down like tenpins." "I guess it gave them a headache," laughed Tom. "I know that I put all my weight behind the blows." "One of them will never have any more headaches," declared Frank. "Even his thick German skull wasn't proof against that blow. Subsequent proceedings will interest him no more." "The other one was taken to the hospital with a broken shoulder," remarked Billy. "If Tom had only had time, he'd have cleaned out the whole bunch," laughed Bart. "As it is, he's given them a wholesome respect for American muscle."