"Well, what about him?" asked Tom. "I don't see anything remarkable about him, except that he's a slow eater. I admit I bolt my food too much."
"No, it isn't that," said Jack in a low voice. "But don't you think he looks like a German?"
Tom took another casual glance.
"Well, you might find a resemblance if you tried hard," he answered. "But I should be more inclined to call him a Dutchman. And when I say Dutchman I mean a Hollander."
"I understand," remarked Jack. "But I don't agree with you in thinking that he may be from Holland. Of course men of that nationality have a right to go and come as they choose, where they can, but I don't believe this chap is one."
"Why not?"
"Because I heard him mutter something in German."
"Well, lots of Hollanders can speak German, I have no doubt. I can splutter a few words myself, but not enough to hurt me. I began to pick up some from the prisoners, after we had that experience with Potzfeldt, when we realized that even a little knowledge of the Hun's talk, much as we hate him, would be of service. And so you think you heard this fellow speak German?" asked Tom, as he pre-
