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See!" said Archer excitedly. "And herre's America " "Yes, and there it is again," said Tom. "That must be Yankees, see? Something or other Yankees. It's about a mile long." "It's got one two three wait a minute it's got thirty-seven letters to it. Go-o-od night!" "And that must be Arracourt," said Tom. "I heard about that place it ain't so far from Nancy. Gee, I wish we could read that letter!"
"He must o' been a walking correspondence school," said Archer, unfolding the contents of the parchment envelope. "Herre's a list all in German. Herre's some poetry or I s'pose it's poetry, 'cause it's printed all in and out." "Maybe it's a hymn of hate," said Tom. "Herre's a map, and herre's a letter. All in Gerrman even the map. Anyway, I can't understand it."
The letter was in German, of course, and Archer, who during his long incarceration in the prison camp had picked up a few scraps of the language, fell to trying to decipher it. The only reward he had for his pains was a familiar word which he was able to distinguish here and there and which greatly increased their desire to know the full purport of the letter. "Herre's President Wilson's name.
A fellerr in prison told me General Perrshing wants a lot of men with glass eyes to peel onions. Look out you don't trip on that root! Herre's anotherr. If you'rre under sixteen what part of the arrmy do they put you in? The infantry, of course. Herre's " "Never mind," laughed Tom. "Look where you're stepping."
"It's up to both of us." "Oh, don't mind me," Archer answered sarcastically. "I don't count. I know one thing I'm going to head straight for the Swiss borderr. If crossing the river herre's the quickest way to do it, then that's what I'm going to do, you can bet!" For a moment Tom did not speak, then looking straight at Archer, he said, "You don't forget how she helped us, do you?"
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