Hans did not believe this would be possible.
"You, an officer!" he said, and shook his old head.
"I can try," said Franz, and presented himself before the proper person.
"Inaction is killing me," he announced. And, indeed, he looked most dreadful, pale, bloodless, and a ghost of the brave young officer of Jena.
The French were always good-natured with the German prisoners until the time came to shoot them, and that, after all, was Napoleon's affair, not theirs, and so the Herr Lieutenant was permitted to dig.
"A strange occupation for an officer," and the commandant shrugged his shoulders. But the Germans, at best, he thought, were only pigs, so if this one wanted to root, let him. The walls of the castle were high. Escape was impossible.
"Now," said Hans, "now, may the good God help us with the rest!"
"Amen," said the Herr Lieutenant.
And it seemed that He did, for on the second day of Franz's digging a quick, pelting June rain hid them entirely from the view of the castle.
The rain came down in sheets; all were safe in the castle, not a soul could see them. The rain changed suddenly into hail. All the better, and the good God be thanked!