Karl, indeed, was quite willing to keep out of Bob's vicinity. Not all his pride and self-importance could make him look forward to such a meeting with any enjoyment. Just now he was fully taken up by the argument with his superior.
"You say when you saw him at the outskirts of the village he was dressed in peasant's clothes, Müller?" inquired the Feldwebel or Sergeant, dubiously. "The man is certainly in uniform now. The mist befogged your eyes. That muddy colored cloth they wear may look like anything at a distance." The Sergeant was milder than he might ordinarily have been at Karl's mistake because he belonged to the company Karl cooked for, and had enjoyed better meals lately than for a year past.
Karl hesitated, longing to insist, but not wishing to presume too far. He had won praise already for revealing the presence of another man after Benton was taken.
"We searched the village from end to end at your direction," the Sergeant continued. "He was not in it, naturally, as he was in these woods. That'll do, Müller. The squad is ready to move."
In an hour the two prisoners were in the house requisitioned in the village by the Regimental Commander. There they were separated. Bob was asked a few perfunctory questions by several officers in turn, relating to his rank, his corps, and his intention in making the morning's flight. He managed to reply with enough vagueness to give no information, and they stopped short of questions which he must refuse to answer. Before long they withdrew and left him alone. He stood forlornly by the window, watching the winter twilight close in and lights spring up through the village, when the door opened, and, to his delight, Benton came toward him.
"I have only a minute," he said quickly. "They told me I could say good-bye, but to cut it short."
"Good-bye?" echoed Bob, feeling his heavy heart sink still lower. "They aren't going to separate us, Benton?"
"Yes." Benton frowned, all the bitter and helpless disappointment at his capture distorting for an instant his calm face. "They are going to send me up to the Divisional Commander. Whether to present me with the Iron Cross or to show me to a firing squad I haven't yet made out," he muttered. "But anyway you're to be sent on alone, with some French prisoners taken yesterday."
"Oh, Benton, that's tough," sighed Bob, his brave heart quailing for a moment at thought of the lonely captivity before him.