Another shot followed with no better result. It was not the rifles of the pursuing horsemen that he feared; it was their obvious superiority in speed. He could hear the thud of the horses' hoofs in the soft ground growing momentarily louder and louder. Only twenty yards more, and the Uhlans would be balked by the dense foliage. Ahead was a ditch, six feet in width, with a fairly high bank on the opposite side. In his heated imagination the fugitive could almost feel the points of those ugly lances thrust into his back. With a stupendous effort he leapt, alighting on the other side of the ditch on his hands and knees. The Germans, fearing to risk the jump, began to rein in their horses. For the time being he had won. Rollo staggered to his feet and clambered up the bank, when to his horror he found himself confronted by a dozen levelled rifles. It was a case of "out of the frying-pan into the fire" with a vengeance. Had there been a ghost of a chance to break away Rollo would have seized it, but there was none. He raised both hands above his head. The next instant he was held by two powerful soldiers, while others, with a dexterity acquired by much practice, searched him. Not only was he stripped, and the lining of his coat ripped open, but his boots were removed and the soles cut through, in case a hidden dispatch might be found. They even forced open his mouth to make certain he was not swallowing any document; and they took good care to retain the letters he had received from home. Finding nothing of the nature they suspected, the sergeant in charge of the men gruffly ordered him in very imperfect French to dress. Then, escorted by four men, and followed by the patrol of Uhlans and the motor-cyclist who had raised the alarm, Rollo was taken into the village and brought before a group of officers. "Ah, Englishman! We have caught you, then," exclaimed one of the Prussian officers. Rollo looked straight at him. The German was in the uniform of the line. His head was swathed in surgical bandages, but there was enough of his face left exposed to give the British lad a clue to the identity of the speaker. He was the major who had treacherously attempted to shoot the Belgian officer by whom he had been given quarter, on the occasion of the night attack upon Fort de Barchon. On the fall of the Liége fortresses the Prussian had been released by his comrades, and in spite of his wound was once more at the front. For the next ten minutes Rollo was closely questioned. He replied only when he felt fairly certain that there was no harm in so doing; but, when pressed to give information respecting the Belgian forces, he resolutely refused. The German officers swore, and threatened him. "You cannot make me disclose information," declared Rollo. "It is against the rules of war to coerce a prisoner." A chorus of loud jeering laughter greeted this statement.