In a jiffy the two guards were in a dog fight over a bone—yours truly being the bone and the bone of contention—one was kicking me and the other pulling me—one anxious to get the bonus for capturing me and the other trying to save himself from jail. I was not only under the fence, but I was on both sides of it. I was afraid if I went on out the guard on the inside would shoot me, and if I backed in I knew I would be punished and I did not know but that the guard on the outside might become real excited and stick me. So, while they were fighting between themselves, one pulling and the other tugging at me, I decided that if I did go on out I might have a chance to hit this other guy on the bean and take a run for liberty. The guns were firing all the time and things were getting good and hot around there. The boy on the inside was about as scared of the guns as he was of my escaping, so, I began to tug and with the help of the other sentry was pulling myself through. Then the old boy on the inside administered his trusty bayonet blade to my leg, and while I cannot describe the particular motion through which he went, I can certainly testify that he gave me one mighty persuasive jab. For believe me, I sure did back in at the rate of a mile a minute, for I had no further inclination whatsoever to go on out. I realized that duty called me at the camp, and while it had taken me fully five minutes to get my anatomy that far out—well, this little flying machine had a reversible propeller, that’s all. The old boy on the inside was terribly sore, because in climbing the fence after me he had torn his nice, new, green pants, yet he was over-delighted that he had saved himself from jail. As we walked up to the fence I attempted to climb the wire first, whereupon the old boy said, “Nicht! Nein!” and menaced me again with his bayonet. Needless to say—I unhesitatingly obeyed. I had hoped, should I have gotten over the fence first, to run immediately to my bunk and fool the foxy old boy, but when he flashed that bayonet on me it was the halt sign of my new fraternity. A little blood was beginning to trickle down my leg and I began to feel pretty much like a stuck pig, so, in courtesy, I let the old boy climb over first and I went after him.