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.