Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1941-08-01
CHAPTER Is

For over an hour, after Hutch had
finished his story, the fugitive war
prisoners drifted in absolute silence,
each thinking his different thoughts,
planning, wondering. Henri was IN
the stern, keeping the boat to the
channel with dexterous movements OF
his huge and capable hands.
1t was Pierre who spoke first.
give an uncanny sense of time," ne
said. II should say that it is not far
from two o'clock, the hour, as you
know, that the guard changes. 1t is
my guess that the swine have found
out we are on leave without permits
sion. How | should like to see their
ugly faces, hear their surprised voices!
They will not know what to make
of the guards absence. Ha, ha, ha!
That was a good joke, my friend"
Hutch was not so sure that strangl-
| ing a man to death was such good
joke, but he had other things to think
about, and dismissed the dead Nazi
from his mind.
81 think you are right about the
time, Dubreuil We had better go q
shore" Henri headed the boat for
the right bank. "No, the left bank"
Hutch said. Concarneau is to the
southeast"
When they were ashore Henri show
ed the boat out into midstream, so
that it would drift away and not in
dictate where they had landed. Then
began their trek across land. On
they walked, mile after mile, skirting
around towns and villages, and keep
ing off main roads as much as pos
sible. 1t was easy to hold an ap-
proximate course by the stars, which
both aviators knew well.
Dawn was breaking when the four
men, tired but excited, looked down
from the hill above upon Concerneau.
Hutch felt almost as though it was
homecoming for him, so familiar
was everything that he saw. The
gray stone of the Vile Close, the old
fortified town jutting out and cutting
the harbor almost in two, the street
along the port, and the port itself,
colorful, and beautiful even in the
dull and mistfilled light which pre-
ceded the day. Along the sea wall
he could see many funny ships, their
bright sails unfurled and Tapping
lazily to the movement of the water.
He hoped Old Yves had not gone out.
He also hoped that the Germans had
not put a stop to funny fishing. AS
the light grew brighter and the mist
lifted he was treasured on this lat
fer question. Far off on the horizon
he could plainly see several Of the
boats coming in under full sail and
one was going out. If Yves was alb
sent it would be necessary to lind
some one else. The old sailors wife
would help out there. She knew all
the fishermen, and could be counted
on absolutely.
Hutch concealed his friends in
small pine woods down near the sea
and walked briskly into town. He did
not feel like a very snappy and cor
rect German soldier with his wet
and bedraggled clothes, and he want
ed to arrive at the home of Yves as
early as possible. Along the road
he passed group Of Nazi privates,
who looked him up and down, laughed
and shouted at him. He could not
hear what they were saying, but ne
laughed and waved back, and they
went on. Evidently they thought ne
was just returning from a bender
slightly the worse for alcohol. How
ever, few soldiers were abroad at this
time of the morning, and he arrived
without further incident before the
humble door in the narrow street
where his friend lived. From the
chimney above smoke curled, and with
in there was movement. He knock
cd and a female voice called out for
him to come in. He entered and saw
the form of Anne, the fisherman
wife, bent over the open hearth, blow
ing on the fire to make the blaze
catch.
When the woman turned and saw
him standing there in German uni
form, she nearly toppled back into the
fire. "Sale Boche!" she Kissed. Get
out of here! Get out of my house,
Swine!"
Hutch laughed at her fury.
She made a move to pick up
broom. 81 am not joking, you dirty
-But-am I dreaming? It cannot
be Monsieur David, in that comic
opera get-up. Or is it, and if so what
| L.. - H.