"You remember, of course," began the captain, "how we were captured, and how badly I was wounded? You remember, also, that we were separated in the German camp?"
The lads signified that they did, and the captain continued:
"All right, then. It seems that my wounds were more serious than was at first supposed. A fever set in, and my German physician told me that I was a dead man. I laughed at him. I told him I had too much work to do to die yet awhile. He wanted to know what that work was and I told him it was killing Germans. This made him angry, and—"
"I don't wonder," said Hal dryly.
"It's a wonder he didn't administer a dose of poison right then," said Chester.
"Yes," continued the captain, "it made him mad, and he informed me that I might as well die, because if I didn't I would be shot anyhow."
"Shot!" ejaculated Chester. "What for?"
"That's what I asked him. He replied that I had been declared a spy, and that I was to be put to death as soon as I was well enough to face a firing squad. He said they didn't want to do it while I was so ill."
"Very considerate of them," commented Hal.
"Just what I told the surgeon. Well, naturally, with this sentence hanging over my head I didn't get well any quicker than I had to. Every day I could feel myself getting better, but I pretended to get worse. I contracted all the ailments you ever heard of, and I was a sore puzzle to the surgeon. He had several others look me over, but they couldn't agree on what was the matter with me, although they did agree I was a very sick man and had only a few days to linger on this earth. Yet all this time, mind you, I was shamming and getting better every day."