name my mule after him."

"Oh, ho!" said the German; "then perhaps you have named him for
the Kaiser!"

Netteke had marched steadily along during this conversation, and
they were now past the soldier.

"No," Father De Smet called back, "I didn't name her after the
Kaiser. I think too much of my mule!"

The soldier shook his fist after them. "I'll make you pay well
for your impudence!" he shouted. "You and I will meet again!"

"Very likely," muttered Father De Smet under his breath. He was
now more than ever anxious to get beyond the German lines before
dark, but as the afternoon passed it became certain that they
would not be able to do it. The shadows grew longer and longer as
Netteke plodded slowly along, and at last Mother De Smet called
to her husband over the boatside.

"I think we shall have to stop soon and feed the mule or she will
be too tired to get us across the line at all. I believe we
should save time by stopping for supper. Besides, I want to send
over there," she pointed to a farmhouse not a great distance
from the river, "and get some milk and eggs."

"Very well," said her husband; "we'll stop under that bunch of
willows."