The person who spoke to me was a German cavalry officer, who quite politely bade me good-morning and asked me how I felt.  I told him I felt rotten.  I was both hungry and thirsty—­and dirty and homesick.  He laughed at that, as if it were funny, and asked me where I came from.  When I told him, he said, “You Canadians are terrible fools to fight with us when you don’t have to.  You’ll be sick of it before you are through.  Canada is a nice country, though,” he went on; “I’ve been in British Columbia, too, in the Government employ there—­they treated me fine—­and my brother is there now, engineer in the Dunsmuir Collieries at Ladysmith.  Great people—­the Canadians!”

And he laughed again and said something in German to the officer who was with him.

When the sun came up and poured into the church, warming up its cold dreariness, I lay down and slept, for I had not nearly finished the sleep so comfortably begun in the basement the night before.

But in what seemed like three minutes, some one kicked my feet and called to me to get up.  I got to my feet, still spurred by the hope of getting something to eat.  Outside, all those who could walk were falling in, and I hastened to do the same.  Our guards were mounted this time, and I noticed that their horses were small and in poor condition.  We were soon out of the village and marching along a splendid road.

The day was bright and sunny, but a searching wind blew straight in our faces and made travelling difficult.  It seemed to beat unmercifully on my sore shoulder, and I held my right wrist with my left hand, to keep the weight off my shoulder all I could.

I had not gone far when I began to grow weak and dizzy.  The thirst was the worst; my tongue was dry and swollen, and it felt like a cocoa doormat.  I could see rings of light wherever I looked, and the ground seemed to come up in waves.  A guard who rode near me had a water-bottle beside him which dripped water.  The cork was not in tight as it should have been, and the sight of these drops of water seemed to madden me.  I begged him for a drink, and pointed to my parched tongue; but he refused, and rode ahead as if the sight of me annoyed him!

Ahead of us I could see the smoke of a large town, and I told myself over and over again that there would be lots of water there, and food and clean clothes, and in this way I kept myself alive until we reached Roulers.

CHAPTER III

INTO GERMANY

Roulers is a good-sized town in West Flanders, of about thirty thousand population, much noted for its linen manufacture; and has a great church of St. Michael with a very high tower, which we could see for miles.  But I do not remember much about the look of the town, for I could hardly drag my feet.  It seemed as if every step would be my last.  But I held on some way, until we reached the stopping-place, which happened to be an unused school.  The men who had not been wounded had arrived several hours ahead of us.