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Some of these were taken off farther down the line, to be sent to different camps, Tom supposed. At last, after an all day's ride, they reached their destination. But alas, there was no such place as Slopsgotten! Tom was sorry for this for he liked the name. It sounded funny when his English friends said it. Schlaabgaurtn, was the way he read it on the railroad station.
As well as he could judge, he had to thank his non-combatant character as well as his youth for the advantages of "Slopsgotten." When the hapless prisoners had been examined and searched and relieved of their few possessions, they were marched to the neighboring camp a civilian camp it was called, although it was hardly limited to that.
And when they had finished, and the answers had been written down, they made a few informal inquiries about American troops and transports, which he was thankful that he could not answer. When he returned to the ante-room he had fastened to his buttonhole a brass disk with a number stamped upon it and a German word which was not "Slopsgotten," though it looked as if it might be something like it.
"I'll wiger you me first package from 'ome 'e goes to Slopsgotten." "What is Slopsgotten?" Tom asked. "It's the ship's boys' 'eaven." "I guess it ain't so good," said the man. "It's a grite big rice track," said the sailor. "Me cousin was there afore the Yanks came in. Mr. Gerard 'e got him exchinged. They got a 'ole army o' Yanks there now all civilian." "Is it a prison camp?" said Tom.
"It's a bloomin' lot o' difference," said the sailor, "whether you're civilian or not, I can jolly well tell you! It's a short course in Wittenberg there and Slopsgotten, or wotever they calls it. And the Spanish Ambassador, 'e calls to inquire arfter yer 'ealth every d'y. Hi there, Fritzie, 'ave we long to wite, old pal?"
"Let's see," said the sailor; "didn't I jolly well tell yer? Congratulations!" "Does it mean I go to Slopsgotten?" Tom asked. "They'll keep us there till the war's over, too," said the one called Freddie. "We'll never get a good whack at Fritzie now." Tom's heart fell. "We'll be wittling souveneers out o' wood," Freddie concluded. "We'll have plenty o' wood," said his comrade.
Florette sat gazing at him, her eyes brimming. "And you come to Zhermany, how?" "After we started back the ship I worked on got torpedoed and I was picked up by a submarine. I never saw the inside of one before. So that's how I got to Germany. They took me there and put me in the prison camp at Slopsgotten that ain't the way to say it, but " "You've got to sneeze it," interrupted Archer.
He felt disappointed and aggrieved. He was by no means sure of the letters, and pronunciation was out of the question. He liked Slopsgotten. In Tennert's mouth he had almost come to love it. It was the only thing about Germany that he liked, and now he had to give it up! Slopsgotten! "'Ere we are in bloomin' old Slops! Not 'arf bad, wot? Another inch and we'd bunk our noses plunk into Alsice!
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