"Well, I guess we're doomed to stay here then," and Bob sighed. "But it's tough luck!"
Once more Franz looked around. And then, to Bob's surprise, his companion in misery leaned over and whispered:
"There's a chance! Just a bare chance! I can't tell you any more now. One of the guards is looking at us. Lean over and pretend to be tying your shoe!"
Bob did so, his heart thumping hard with the sudden rush of hope. He tried to act naturally.
"Look at these shoes!" he exclaimed, extending his foot as if he were tying a loose lace. "The fellows who caught me took my good ones and left me with these paper things. They're nearly half 'melted' now."
"I had the same luck," said Franz, exhibiting his footwear, which was in the same condition as was Bob's. "But it's all part of the fearful game. Are you hungry?"
"Hungry? Say, that word doesn't fit at all! I'm starved!"
Once more Franz looked cautiously about. The guard's gaze seemed to be removed now, and the young prisoner spoke more freely.
"Come along," he said to Bob. "There's a vacant bunk next to mine. You want to cop it while you have the chance, then we can be together. And don't breathe a word of this to anyone, but I've a couple of chocolate cakes hidden away. They're great for staving off that starved feeling."
"Chocolate!" ejaculated Bob. "For the love of——"