For a half-mile she pursued him thus. He came to the end of the field and dodged into the thicket of bushes that lined the fence row. He moved more slowly now, and she followed by sound rather than by sight. At length they came to where a brook ran at right angles to the fence row. The man stopped and crawled under the barbed-wire fence and came out on the turnpike that ran alongside. Ethel, peering out from the bushes, saw him walk boldly forward and stand upon the end of the stone culvert that conducted the brook beneath the roadway. For a moment only he remained so, and then clambered quickly down at the end of the arch and disappeared in the darkness beneath. She heard a foot splash in the water, and then all was quiet save the gurgle of the stream. Climbing over the fence, she top ran forward upon the culvert. She listened and looked toward either end, resolved to call to him if he emerged. As she stood waiting she saw the yellow signal light rise in spirals higher and higher and then circle slowly in one location. A few minutes later the dim tail lights of the planes came up out of the horizon and flew towards the signal light. After a half-hour of waiting, she boldly resolved to enter the hiding place of the man she had followed. Cautiously feeling her way, she clambered down over the end of the culvert and peered into its black archway. At first, dimly and then with brighter flash, she saw a light within. Creeping slowly forward, wading in the stream and stumbling over rough blocks of stone, she made toward the light. Midway the passage, the side wall of the culvert had fallen or been torn down and there in a little damp clay nook, sitting hunched upon a rock was the silhouette of the unshaven man. Beyond him glowed the dim light and by its faint rays he was hurriedly writing in a note book. With a start he became aware of her presence, and turned the flash-light upon her. "I followed you," she stammered. "I want to explain. I'm an American girl captive among the Japanese." He stared at her quizzically in the dim light. "I ran from you," he said, "because I was afraid to trust you--there are a number of Europeans among the Japanese forces. I couldn't know that you wouldn't have given the alarm, and for one man to run from fifty thousand isn't cowardice; it's common sense--even bravery, perhaps, when there's a cause at stake." "I understand," replied the girl. "Won't you be seated?" he said, arising and offering her his place on the rock. She accepted, and he asked her for more of her story. In reply she told him whom she was and related as briefly as she could the incidents of her life that accounted for her peculiar predicament. "I suppose I owe you something of an explanation, too;" he said, when she had finished. "My name is Winslow--Stanley Winslow; I am --or at least was---the editor of the _Regenerationist_. Do you know what that is?" Ethel confessed, that she did not.