However, the Colonel dismounted into very real pools of mud and manure. "_Les correspondants Américains!_" he shouted. We lined up--hopefully--before him. "Your automobile," he informed us curtly, "has become the property of the army. I have directed that your overcoats and other belongings, and the food you carry with you, be brought to you here. You may eat this food and also draw your daily ration of the army fare." This was a concession; and one of the Italians, who had drawn near, immediately asked for another. "Now that there are seven of us," he asked "can't we have an audience with the commanding general of this division?" The Colonel considered, then said: "If you ask an audience for only one of your number, you may draw up a petition." The Italian, having made the suggestion, wrote the petition, we all signed it and an hour later he was led away between files of soldiers to see the General. Returning, after only a few minutes, he said the General had received him courteously but would give him no satisfaction, saying that he was waiting for instructions concerning us from General Joffre. There was nothing to do then but make the best of it. At six o'clock the Colonel's cook informed us that we could go to the great open oven in the cow yard and draw our evening rations. It was lucky that we had our aluminum plates, for there were no others for us. We filed across the yard with the soldiers and got a mixture of beans and beef that was decidedly unpalatable even though we flavored it with our own wine and bread. As we finished it, our chauffeur, a trench "reformë," appeared in the kitchen. He told us he was not a prisoner but was "detained" in the town with the car. He asked for a bottle of our wine, which we gave him, with a cake of chocolate, and a bottle of our water. My two friends and myself then discussed our sleeping problem. We had resolved not to sleep in that outhouse with the Germans. When the Colonel next came into the yard we tackled him, asking if we might not have the freedom of the town under parole, in order to find beds. He said he could not consider it. "Then," said our spokesman, "rather than sleep in the outhouse may we stay here in the yard?" The Colonel stiffened with sudden resentment at our making so many difficulties. He strode fiercely to a door of the stable and threw it open, showing piles of straw on the earthen floor. "There I sleep with my officers," he said with dignified reproach. "But," we explained, "it is not the hardship to which we object. We do not wish to be classified and kept in the same place with German spies." "Ah," said the Colonel. He stared a moment, then smiled. He was human after all. He could appreciate that point and liked us the better for making it. He said we might stay in the yard and then, after stamping about the room a few minutes, he pointed to a ladder to a loft above his quarters and said: