I was napping when, to my surprise, the sergeant, clutching my arm with a whispered precaution for silence, said, “When you hear me snore, take my revolver, put on the coat that covers me, without getting to your feet. When I pinch your arm, creep to the other side of this stack, then go on keeping in line with the next stack ahead, and then the next, until you reach a tree on the road at the end of this field. If the alarm is not given, wait awhile and then give two whistles through your fingers for the horse. Give him the rein when you get into the saddle; he knows the way to your lines.” I could hardly believe my senses, much less my good fortune. I waited, it seemed for hours, and thought the signal would never come, or that I had been dreaming. Then it came and, reassured, I followed his instructions. I stealthily took the revolver, put it in my pocket, then removed the coat and put it on, and was about to move to the other side of the stack, when in a whisper, the sergeant said, “Wait. The countersign is _Blood and Iron_. Don’t use it unless obliged to; now wait again until I pinch.” I then saw, what I had not before observed, that there was a sentinel walking post at a little distance from the stack. At last there came a sharp pinch, and the whispered caution, “_Go softly_.” I crept to the other side of the stack, then stealthily proceeded to the one ahead of me, and so on until I reached the tree. Peering in every direction and seeing no indications that I had been observed, I gave two sharp whistles. It was not long until I heard the tramp of a horse. I softly called, “Jack!” and the little horse came to my side, tossing his head and rubbing his nose against my arm, as though recognizing me. I mounted and gave the horse the reins. Before long rifle shots rang out, showing that my escape had been discovered. But we soon left them in the rear. At times galloping swiftly and at others walking softly, Jack went on in the rain and darkness. In my impatience it seemed as though daylight and safety would never come. Then close ahead came the sharp command “Halt!” and at the same time my bridle was seized, and I was pulled from my horse. I thought I was in the hands of the enemy, and was about to cry “Blood and Iron,” and struck the horse to urge him forward. He gave a startled jump but did not move onward. Then I heard a voice say, “Look out for the Boche and his horse,” and knew that it was an American outpost. I said not a word as they conducted me to a shattered building a few hundred yards away, then into a room where a candle was lit, and a tall form indistinctly seen by the dim light, shot out the question, “What are you doing here?” “Trying to escape,” I replied, half amused at the situation. “What is your name, rank, and regiment?” “Lieutenant David Stark,” I replied, and was about to add my regiment, when I was interrupted--