"Oh, I'm a prisoner all right," replied Franz. "There's no question about that. And it happened just like that! I did capture some Huns, but another party came along, rescued those I had, and copped me. Then I was brought here, after a fearful journey. But tell me about yourself. How did they get you?"
Bob told of the blowing up of the farmhouse, his unconsciousness and subsequent capture.
"Well, I guess Roger, Jimmy and Iggy are the only ones left to fight the Germans," sighed Franz.
"I don't know about Iggy," replied Bob. "I hope he's left."
"Why, what do you mean? Are Rodge and Jimmy——"
Franz hesitated to put his terrible thought into words.
"We don't know what happened to them," said Bob. "They weren't to be found after one of the big fights we had. Whether they are killed or captured we don't know. For a time Iggy and I were the only two left of the original five. Now I'm gone, and poor Iggy may be all alone. But what sort of camp is this?"
"About as bad as it well can be," said Franz gloomily. "They starve us, beat us, make us work, and do everything mean."
"Any chance of breaking out?" asked Bob. And then as he looked as the heavy stockade and the bare, electrically charged wires, he added: "I guess there isn't, or you'd have tried it long ago."
"Some have tried it," said Franz in a low voice, as he looked around to make sure of the persons in the immediate neighborhood of himself and Bob. "Some got away—at least, they didn't come back here. Others who tried to get away have been shot, and some poor fellows were killed on the electric wires."