"Now," said the hunchback, "walk through the water and over on the other side and then walk back again." Though puzzled by this performance, Horace did so several times, the hunchback following in his tracks. "Turn up-stream!" came the next order, and, with the word, he turned directly into the water. "Whatever you do," warned the hunchback, "don't step on anything that projects out of the water and don't touch the bank." Completely at a loss to understand his companion's purposes, Horace obeyed to the letter. After wading up stream for a hundred yards or so, Croquier handed the cage to Horace. "Give me a leg up to that branch," he said, pointing to the limb of a large tree that overhung the river, bifurcating from the bank. Taking the hunchback's foot in one hand, Horace gave a heave, just enabling his companion to reach the branch overhead. Next he handed up the cage. Then the hunchback, leaning down, grasped the boy's outstretched hand and pulled him to the bough, beside him. Thence he slid down the sloping trunk to the point where the roots divided, forming a natural deep hollow. Here he ensconced himself comfortably, and Horace followed. "Breakfast and a good sleep," said the hunchback, "are the two things we need now." Horace agreed heartily. He was worn out by trying to keep up with the hunchback. "But why did you go to all this trouble to get here?" he asked. "We could have stepped right on to this tree from the bank." "To have some stray village dog chance upon our scent and bark itself hoarse over our heads, attracting the attention of any one who might be passing in the fields? No, thank you! Coming the way we did, there's no trail for a dog to scent, no track to follow. We can afford to sleep soundly. Even if the crippled bird croaks, it will only sound like one of the natural noises of the wood." Thus reassured, Horace ate a good breakfast, and, wearied by the night's exertions and excitement, fell into a sound sleep. It was late in the afternoon before he woke, but, as he slowly came to wakefulness, a hand was put over his mouth. The boy struggled, for the first dazed moment not realizing where he was, but the hunchback's grip would have held a lion. Then Croquier, seeing recognition in the lad's eyes, freed him, but laid a finger on his lip. Horace repressed a yawn and listened. Voices could be heard close by, talking in German. The boy could only distinguish a word here and there. Evidently the men were strolling along the river bank, at the end of a day's march. Horace shivered to think how near they might have been to discovery had the hiding-place been less carefully chosen. "Could you catch what they said?" the hunchback queried in a whisper, when the voices had receded into the distance. "I only caught a word or two. The name 'Bomal' was repeated several times. They seemed to be going to camp there for the night."