“This certainly is the limit!” was Dave’s comment, when he found himself squeezed into one end of this place. “I wouldn’t treat a skunk like this!”
Presently the train began to move, and the car rattled out of the freight-yard and on its journey. Previous to going aboard the prisoners had been given some weak coffee, made mostly of acorns, and some bread which several of the men declared must be made of rye flour and sawdust. And that was the only meal they had had since morning.
“If they are going to starve us to death, they might as well do it at once,” grumbled Davis.
“They’re either going to starve us or suffocate us,” returned Thompson. The pair had struck up quite an acquaintance.
On and on rattled the train, over switches and bridges, and through many villages and towns. Where they were bound, Dave could not imagine, but he knew they must be getting deeper and deeper into the heart of Germany, and this made him more downcast than ever.
“I’ll have no chance to escape at all if they take me too far away from the front lines,” he reasoned. “Too bad! I almost wish I had made a dash for it when I met those Germans at the entrance to the mines.”
It was not until eight o’clock in the evening that the train came to a stop and the doors were thrown open. By that time many of those within could hardly stand upright, so weak were they from want of fresh air and proper rest. They staggered into the open, and were glad enough to learn they were to receive another meal. This time they were given a watery stew, made up partly of potatoes and greens with a tiny piece of meat. Accompanying the stew was the inevitable chunk of black, sawdusty bread.
“A really elaborate menu, eh?” was Oscar Davis’s sarcastic comment. “I hardly know what to pick out on the bill-of-fare.”
“Well, don’t eat too much,” returned Dave, with a faint grin. “If you do that, you may get indigestion.”
“Indigestion!” ejaculated the former university student. “I think this mess is just the thing to go back on a fellow’s stomach.”