Suddenly, cutting the night in the field below, a tiny ray of light cut the darkness, sweeping back and forward, flashing on and off. For a moment the officer watched it, then, with a muttered curse, he raced down the hillside followed by one of his men. The noise of the storm hid their approach. The boy collapsed into a trembling heap, as the officer grasped him and wrested the flash-light from his chilled fingers. He made no protest as they led him down into a dark, deserted village. He followed his captors into a candle-lighted room where sat a staff officer. Briefly the Captain explained the situation. “Caught him in the act of signaling to an enemy plane, sir,” he said. The boy was too cold to venture a protest. “Bring him to me again in the morning,” said the Colonel, shrugging his shoulders. “Hold on, though! What are you going to do with him? He will die unless you get him warmed up.” “Don’t know what to do with him, sir, unless I take him down to the Salvation Army... they have a fire there.” “Very good, Captain, see that he is properly guarded and if they will have him, leave him there for the night.” And so it came to pass that the boy reached his destination. It was past closing time—long past; but the motherly Salvationist in charge knew just what to do. Within ten minutes, wrapped in a warm blanket, the boy sat with his feet in a pan of hot water, with the Salvation Army woman feeding him steaming lemonade. Between gulps, he told his story and was comforted. Soon he was snugly tucked into an army cot, and still grasping the Salvationist’s hand, was sleeping peacefully. The next day a little investigation assured the Colonel that the boy’s story was a true one, and with a reprimand for leaving his post without orders he was allowed to return. The delay, however, had absented him, of course, from morning roll-call, and he was sentenced to thirty days repairing wire on the front-line trenches, which was often equivalent to a death sentence, for as many men were shot during the performance of this duty as came in safely. He had done fifteen days of his time at this sentence when the Salvation Army woman from the Ansauville hut which the boy had visited that rainy night happened over to his Officers’ Headquarters, and by chance learned of his unhappy fate. It took but a few words from her to his commanding officer to set matters right; his sentence was revoked, and he was pardoned.