Thus it happened that Burton, after his unlucky accident, found himself in the grasp of Captain Bramarbas and Lieutenant Schnauzzahn of the 19th Pomeranian infantry of the line. The German officers were mightily pleased with themselves. They had supped well: French cooking and French wine predisposed them to rosy views. Nothing more delightful could have crowned their day. A French spy, an English aeroplane and an English airman--all in a single haul! The Iron Cross had often been awarded for much less. And, of course, there was something behind it all. An enemy aeroplane would not land thus in the German lines unless there was some important object to be gained. The English, no doubt, were mad; but after all there was method in their madness. The next move must be to discover the nature of this Englishman’s scheme, and his means of communication with the farmer spy. Then compliments, promotion, and the Iron Cross! Some such thoughts as these raced through the Germans’ minds in the moment of exultation, when, for the first time, their hands laid hold of English flesh. "Hand over your revolver," said the captain in German. "Do you speak German?" "No," said Burton, making no resistance as Schnauzzahn relieved him of the weapon. He felt very wretched. Captain Bramarbas was disappointed. Neither he nor his lieutenant spoke English, and it did not occur to him for the moment that the Englishman might speak French. "We’ll march our prisoners down to the farm," he said to Schnauzzahn. "Wait a moment. They may have accomplices who will remove or destroy the aeroplane as soon as our backs are turned. That would be a pity." "What then? If one of us stays to guard the machine, and there are accomplices, he would have to meet an unknown number single-handed." He stood pointing his revolver at Burton. They must find a way out of this quandary. "Why not send Ascher to the farm to bring up some men?" "Again, he might be sprung upon by the enemy. Of course, they would have no chance in the end, but for the present, until we know more, we had better remain all three together. Listen! Do you hear anything?" "No." "They may be lurking somewhere to take us unawares, though how they could conceive such a scheme, so mad, so insolent---- Ach! I have it." The captain had indeed at last made up his mind--and, as the sequel showed, chosen the wrong course. It was, perhaps, no worse than another, for it was chosen in ignorance of the circumstances; but his calculation sprang from a typically German misconception of the psychology of an Englishman. A sentry was always on duty at the door of the farm. A couple of revolver shots would give him the alarm, and in a few minutes the Pomeranians, swine in their hours of ease, but good soldiers nevertheless, would rush to their captain’s assistance.