When the door used to open and Cotton appeared with this unsavoury repast, which was always the same each day, I would say to him in the most indifferent tone I could assume: "Well, Cotton, what kind of soup is it to-day?" "Well, sir; I really don't know. It might be anything; it looks like hot water." "Why, my dear Cotton, this soup is salt. How dull you are! There must have been a battle in the North Sea!" "How do you know that, sir?" "It's the way the Germans have. This soup is hot sea-water; it is to celebrate a victory." The next day there would be a slight difference in the soup, and again Cotton would gravely shake his head, unable to fathom its mystery. "My dear Cotton, when will you learn to gather information from your rations by a method of deduction?" "Has there been another battle in the North Sea, sir?" "No, my dear Cotton, the soup is thicker; the German fleet is back in the Kiel Canal." It was the beginning of the third week of my sojourn in Osnabruck, when I was told one day that I was to proceed next morning to Blenhorst camp to appear before the Swiss Commission. Three other officers were also to go, including Rogan. Cotton was to accompany me, and we made great preparation for the journey, packing in a tin box biscuits and cheese, chocolate and sardines; for although an officer is charged just the same for his full day's ration, the Germans have a habit of sending him on a long day's journey without food. We started off at about 6 o'clock the next morning in high glee; for whatever the result of the Swiss Commission might be, there was the journey to Blenhorst to break the monotony of Osnabruck. We had to change trains several times, and in the station restaurants we had much the same experience as I have described on my journey from Hanover. In one restaurant we could only obtain a slice of ham as thin as tissue-paper, and in another a very small sausage; and yet the German people we passed in the streets had no appearance of being short of food, or suffering any hardships in this respect. The people in the streets, I understand, looked just as contented and well fed as the people in England. The station for Blenhorst is about eight miles from the camp. A large flat, open lorry was sent to meet us to carry our baggage, but as our belongings were for the most part carried in our pockets, it was unnecessary for that purpose. It then dawned upon our two guards, who had no more desire to walk than we had, that we might ride on the lorry ourselves. They obtained a form to hold four, and we four officers occupied this seat on the open lorry, Cotton sitting on the floor, while the two guards sat together behind us, with their feet dangling over the side.