Next we were confronted by a wire obstacle, 3 feet high by 30 feet wide, contrived according to the latest and most cunning devices. We ran over it like cats. After this we again came to a high barbed-wire hedge, built on exactly the same lines as the first, and also electrically charged. We managed this too, except that I tore a piece out of the seat of my trousers, which I had to retrieve, in order to put it in again later. But, thank God, we were over the boundary! Trefftz and I clasped hands and looked at each other in silence. But now the chief difficulty began. Cautiously we went forward in the darkness, crossing a stream, climbing over a wall, jumping into a deep ditch, and at last slunk past the guard-house which stood at the entrance to the camp. Only after that were we in the open. We ran without stopping along the wide main road which led to Donington Castle. After half an hour we stopped and took off our leggings and gloves, which had been slashed and torn by the wire. The palms of our hands, our feet, to say nothing of other parts of our body, were in a pretty condition. The barbed wire left us souvenirs which stung for weeks. We now opened our bundles, took out civilian grey mackintoshes, and walked down the road in high spirits as if we were coming from a late entertainment. When Donington Castle came in sight, we had to be particularly careful. We had agreed upon all we would do in case we met anyone. Suddenly, just as we were turning into the village, an English soldier came walking towards us. Trefftz embraced me, drew me towards him, and we behaved like a rollicking pair of love-birds. The Englishman surveyed us enviously, and went on his way, clicking his tongue. Only then, something in the stocky, undersized figure made me realize that it was the sergeant-major of our camp! We stepped out briskly, and after passing the village we were favoured by chance, and came upon the bridge about which we had been told. But we were at once confronted with a critical proposition. The highway branched off here in three directions, and it was impossible to get any farther without knowledge of the road. At last, in spite of the darkness, we discovered a sign-post—an extreme rarity in England. Luckily it was made of iron, and, when Trefftz had climbed it, he was able to feel with his fingers the word “Derby” traced on it in raised letters.