"Netherlander? Doesn't matter. Have you got papers? All right. You shan't have those back." "Then I'll lodge a complaint with the Imperial Governor of Liège, who gave me the papers." "Swine!" Now the major jumped up and shouted at his subordinate that he had to treat a Netherlander as he ought to be treated. The major, sitting at another desk, took my further examination upon himself, apologising for the "noisy" conduct of his subordinate, who had got somewhat over-excited in consequence of the circumstances. He found my papers in perfect order, and told me in civil tones that I should get back my liberty which I had lost in consequence of a misunderstanding, but that for the present I was not allowed to leave Bilsen, as I should run the greatest risk of being shot by German or Belgian patrols, who were hidden along the road. He asked me to call again the next morning. I availed myself of his benevolent mood and told him that my fellow-prisoners were treated very unkindly by his soldiers, and these people had lost their composure entirely in consequence. A calm examination, I told him, undoubtedly would give him also the conviction that these people had only fled into the fields because they were afraid, but not with any criminal intent. He promised me to conduct the examination himself, and to be as kind as possible. The next morning I heard that they had all been released. I now tried to get something to eat in the town at an hotel. "Well, what have you got for me to eat?" "To eat, sir--to eat? A bit of bacon ... that's all." "Well, that's all right; and what am I going to have with it, bread, potatoes, or...." "Bread, potatoes? Nothing. We have nothing." I went to various other places, but there I could not even get a bit of bacon. So I made up my mind to starve for the present, and to make inquiries here and there about families whose acquaintances or friends had asked me to do so through the editor of _De Tijd_. Afterwards I sauntered through the very quiet little town, until I suddenly saw something quite uncommon, namely two civilians who, like myself, were walking about. When I came near, one of them recited a rhyme: "Ah, there comes Mister Tijd, and he Lost like ourselves his liberty!" I had not the faintest idea who they were, but then they introduced themselves as van Wersch and Dasoul, both living at the time at Hasselt. The first had been at Maastricht a couple of days ago and had seen me there. He told me that that morning he had been "hooked" and his companion only the evening before. He had come to Bilsen on a bicycle, and got such a blow on his back from the butt of a German rifle that the butt was cracked in two although his back was not injured.