"This!" exclaimed Franz, and he struck true and hard. There was a gasping, choking cry, hardly audible above the sighing of the wind and the patter of the rain. "I--I hope I don't have to do this again," thought Franz with a shudder. "It isn't like killing men in battle. But it has to be!" The way was now clear for him. As quickly as he could he stripped off the corporal's uniform and donned it in place of his own rags. These latter he tossed under the building, where he also hid the body. Possessing himself of the officer's keys Franz hurried into the shop. Fortunately he knew his way about even in the dark, and he caught up two complete uniforms and two long coats from a pile he had noticed that afternoon near the door, where they were stacked ready to be shipped out in the morning. Hurrying back to the sleeping shack, clad in the dead officer's uniform, Franz carried with him the two other outfits he had picked up. Quickly Bob and a man named Rayburn donned these suits, and then, in the darkness and rain, they carried away enough uniforms to fit out the entire escaping party. Feverishly the men worked to get into them, and at last they were outfitted. They were ready to be led to freedom by Franz now, if only fate were kind to them. "All here?" asked Franz in a whisper. "All here," answered Bob, who had kept count. Some of the other prisoners awoke, but none would join the escaping party. They regarded the chances as too slim, and they knew what the result would be if they were caught. Out into the rain and darkness Franz led his squad of "German" soldiers. Boldly they approached the gate. It was the crucial moment. Would they be stopped? The sentry came out of his little box as Franz led his men up in double file. "Halt!" came the command, and Franz repeated it. "Who goes?" demanded the sentry. "A party from the prison commandant's quarters to bring in a squad of American prisoners," answered Franz. "Our brave fellows have captured some more of the swine." "Good!" grunted the sentry. "They ought all be shot. You have an order, of course?" he asked. "Yes," answered Franz, and for a moment his heart went cold. He had not thought of this. In desperation he put his hand in the pocket of the overcoat he had taken from the dead officer. Franz was about to take out the deadly file, and use it for the third time, but as he felt for it his fingers encountered a paper. He did not know what it was, but he would take a chance. At any rate it would be something in German. Boldly he took it out and offered it to the guard at the gate. Had there been any slip here Franz was ready to kill the sentry at once. But the latter was intent on getting what he supposed was an order permitting a squad of German soldiers to pass out. He took the document from Franz's shaking hand. "It is too dark to read," spluttered the guard. "And my flashlamp is broken. Pass on!"