The sniper bestowed another angrily contemptuous look upon him, but Tom appeared not to notice it. "Vell, we rattle you some more--vat?" the officer said, without very much meaning. His voice was enough to rattle any captive, but Tom was not easily disconcerted, and instead of cowering under this martial ferocity and the scorning looks of his friend, he glanced about him in his frowning, lowering way as if the surroundings interested him more than his captors. But he said nothing. "You English--no?" the officer demanded. "We're Americans," said Roscoe, regaining his self-possession. "Ach! Diss iss good for you. If you are English, ve kill you! You have kamerads--vere?" "There's only the two of us," said Roscoe. Tom seemed willing enough to let his companion do the talking, and indeed Roscoe, now that he had recovered his poise, seemed altogether the fitter of the two to be the spokesman. "We got rattled, as this kid says." "If we'd followed that light we wouldn't have happened in on you. We hope we don't intrude," he added sarcastically. The officer glanced at the tiny light in the distance, then at one of the soldiers, then at another, then poured forth a gutteral torrent at them all. Then he peered suspiciously into the darkness. "For treachery, ve kill," he said. "I told you there are only two of us," said Roscoe simply. "Ach, two! Two millions, you mean! Vat? Ach!" he added, with a deprecating wave of his hands. "Vy not _billions_, huh?" Roscoe gathered that he was sneering skeptically about the number of Americans reported to be in France. "Ve know just how many," the officer added; "vell, vat you got, huh?" At this two of the Boches proceeded to search the captives, neither of whom had anything of value or importance about them, and handed the booty to the officer. "Vat is diss, huh?" he said, looking at a small object in his hand. Tom's answer nearly knocked Roscoe off his feet. "It's a compass," said he. So Tom had had a compass with him all the time they had been discussing which was the right direction to take! Why he had not brought it out to prove the accuracy of his own contention Roscoe could not comprehend. "A compass, huh. Vy you not use it?" "Because I was sure I was right," said Tom. "Always sure you are right, you Yankees! Vat?" "Nothing," said Tom. The officer examined the trifling haul as well as he could in the darkness, then began talking in German to one of his men. And meanwhile Tom watched him in evident suspense, and Roscoe, unmollified, cast at Tom a look of sneering disgust for his bungling error--a look which seemed to include the whole brotherhood of scouts. Finally the officer turned upon Roscoe with his characteristic martial ferocity. "How long you in France?" he demanded. "Oh, about a year or so." "Vat ship you come on?" "I don't know the name of it." "You come to Havre, vat?" "I didn't notice the port." "Huh! You are not so--vide-avake, huh?" "Absent-minded, yes," said Roscoe.