The old boy was taken off his feet. I couldn’t have pulled an improvised spiel like that in ten years had I not been keyed up with the high, raging fever and when I finished the reaction left me weak. But I was sure that the Captain commanding the camp was fully convinced that I knew what I was talking about. In fact, I felt that I could see it in his very attitude. The Sergeant then told me that the Captain would consider the proposition and let me know his decision. Of course, I could not wait to get back and tell the boys how I had foxed the Germans. I was just in the act of repeating and acting my long spiel to them when the door opened and in came the Sergeant again. “Well,” I thought, “the old boy has come to tell me that I do not need to serve my penalty.” “Oberleutnant Haslett,” he called before everybody, “the Captain commanding the Camp has decided that you will go to jail at once.” Well, believe me, I could have been knocked over with a hair of a feather. The boys gave me the merry titter and the royal ha! ha! I tried to argue with the Sergeant but he evidently had my number. “Come on, pack up,” he said, “and don’t try to pull your line on me. I’m acting under orders.” So amidst considerable personal embarrassment, I picked up my few belongings, which consisted of a note book, a wooden back toothbrush and a quarter loaf of bread, and the Sergeant walked me over to the guard house. Here he assigned me a hard looking guard who, menacingly, loaded up his rifle right before me which, admittedly, had the moral effect intended; and then, followed by every boche youngster in the whole town, I was in military fashion marched down through the old village and lodged in the town jail.