The knocking seemed to shake the house, so violent it was, so ; and Stewart, , stood staring . But his companion was quicker than he. In an instant she had run to the light and blown it out. Then she was back at his side.  
"The moment they are in the house," she said, "raise the window as silently as you can and unbolt the ."
 
And then she was gone again, and he could hear her moving about near the door.
 
Again the knocking came, louder than before. It could mean only one thing, Stewart told himself—their had been discovered—a party of soldiers had come to arrest them——
 
He drew a quick breath. What then? He closed his eyes dizzily—what had she said? "A file of soldiers in front, a wall behind!" But that should never be! They must kill him first! And then he sickened as he realized how he was, how powerless to protect her——
 
He heard footsteps approach along the hall, and a of light showed beneath the door. For an instant Stewart stared at it uncomprehending—then he smiled to himself. The girl, quicker witted than he, had pulled away the things that had been stuffed there.
 
"Who is it?" called the voice of their .
 
"It is I, Frau Ritter," answered the voice of the police agent. "Open quickly."
 
A key in a lock, the door was opened, and the party stepped inside.
 
Stewart, at the window, raised the sash and pulled back the bolt. He could hear the confused of voices—men's voices——
 
Then he felt a warm hand in his and lips at his ear.
 
"It is the person from Strassburg," she breathed. "He has been brought here for the night. There is no danger. Bolt the shutter again—but softly."
 
She was gone again, and Stewart, with a deep breath that was almost a , thrust home the bolt. The voices were clearer now—or perhaps it was the singing of his blood that was stilled—and he could hear their words.
 
"You will give this gentleman a room," said the secret agent.
 
"Yes, Excellency."
 
"How are your other guests?"
 
"I have heard nothing from them, Excellency, since they ."
 
Suddenly Stewart felt his hat lifted from his head and a hand his hair.
 
"Take off your coat," whispered a voice. "Open the door a little and demand less noise. Say that I am asleep!"
 
It was a call to battle, and Stewart felt his nerves . Without a word he threw off his coat and tore off his collar. Then he moved away the chair from before the door, opened it, and put one eye to the crack. There were five people in the hall—the woman, the secret agent, two soldiers, and a man in .
 
"What the deuce is the matter out there?" he demanded.
 
It did his heart good to see how they jumped at the sound of his voice.
 
"Your pardon, sir," said the officer, stepping toward him. "I hope we have not disturbed you."
 
"Disturbed me? Why, I thought you were knocking the house down!"
 
"Frau Ritter is a heavy sleeper," the other explained with a smile. "You will present my apologies to Madame."
 
"My wife is so weary that even this has not her, but I hope——"
 
"What is it, Tommy?" asked a sleepy voice from the darkness behind him. "To whom are you talking out there?"
 
"Your pardon, madame," said the officer, raising his voice, and doubtless finding a certain in the situation. "You shall not be disturbed again—I promise it," and he signed for his men to withdraw. "Good-night, sir."
 
"Good-night!" answered Stewart, and shut the door.
 
He was so shaken with mirth that he scarcely heard the outer door close. Then he staggered to the bed and upon it.
 
"Oh, little comrade!" he . "Little comrade!" and he buried his head in the clothes to choke back the shouts of laughter which rose in his throat.
 
"! Hush!" she warned him, her hand on his shoulder. "Get your coat and hat. Be quick!"
 
The search for those articles of attire sobered him. He had never before realized how large a small room may become in the dark! His coat he found in one corner; his hat miles away in another. His collar and tie seemed to have disappeared utterly, and he was about to abandon them to their fate, when his hand came into contact with them under the bed. He felt utterly , and sat on the floor panting for breath. Then somebody stumbled against him.
 
"Where have you been?" her voice demanded impatiently. "What have you been doing?"
 
"I have been around the world," said Stewart. "And I explored it ."
 
Her hand found his shoulder and shook it violently.
 
"Is this a time for jesting? Come!"
 
Stewart got heavily to his feet.
 
"Really," he protested, "I wasn't jesting——"
 
"Hush!" she cautioned, and suddenly Stewart saw her against the window and knew that it was open. Then he saw her peer cautiously out, swing one leg over the sill, and let herself down outside.
 
"Careful!" she whispered.
 
In a moment he was beside her in the narrow street. She caught his hand and led him away close in the shadow of the wall.
 
The night air and the movement revived him somewhat, and by a desperate effort of will he managed to walk without stumbling; but he was still deadly tired. He knew that he was suffering from the reaction from the manifold adventures and excitements of the day, more especially the reaction from despair to hope of the last half hour, and he tried his best to shake it off, marveling at the endurance of this slender girl, who had borne so much more than he.
 
She went straight on along the narrow street, close in the shadow of the houses, pausing now and then to listen to some distant sound, and once hastily drawing him deep into the shadow of a as a patrol passed along a cross-street.
 
Then the houses came to an end, and Stewart saw that they were upon a white road running straight away between level fields. Overhead the bright stars shone as calmly and peacefully as though there were no such thing as war in the whole universe, and looking up at them, Stewart felt himself tranquilized and strengthened.
 
"Now what?" he asked. "I warn you that I shall go to sleep on my feet before long!"
 
"We must not stop until we are across the frontier. It cannot be farther than half a mile."
 
Half a mile seemed an to Stewart at that moment; besides, which way should they go? He gave voice to the question, after a helpless look around, for he had completely lost his bearings.
 
"Yonder is the Great Bear," said the girl, looking up to where that beautiful stretched brilliantly across the sky. "What is your word for it—the Ladle, is it not?"
 
"The Dipper," Stewart corrected, reflecting that this was the first time she had been at loss for a word.
 
"Yes—the Dipper. It will help us to find our way. All I know of astronomy is that a line through the two stars of the bowl points to the North Star. So that little star up yonder must be the North Star. Now, what is the old formula—if one stands with one's face to the north——"
 
"Your right hand will be toward the east and your left toward the west," prompted Stewart.
 
"So the frontier is to our left. Come."
 
She released his hand, leaped the ditch at the side of the road, and set off across a rough field. Stewart stumbled heavily after her; but presently his extreme passed, and was followed by a sort of nervous exhilaration which enabled him easily to keep up with her. They climbed a wall, struggled through a strip of woodland—Stewart had never before realized how difficult it is to go through woods at night!—passed close to a house where a barking dog sent panic terror through them, and came at last to a road running westward, toward Belgium and safety. Along this they hastened as rapidly as they could.
 
"We must be past the frontier," said Stewart, half an hour later. "We have come at least two miles."
 
"Let us be sure," gasped the girl. "Let us take no chance!" and she pressed on.
 
Stewart reflected uneasily that they had encountered no outposts, and surely there would be outposts at the frontier to maintain its neutrality and stragglers; but perhaps that would be only on the main-traveled roads; or perhaps the outposts were not yet in place; or perhaps they might run into one at any moment. He looked forward , but the road lay white and empty under the stars.
 
Suddenly the girl stumbled and nearly fell. His arm was about her in an instant. He could feel how her body against him in utter weariness. She had reached the end of her strength.
 
"Come," he said; "we must rest," and he led her unresisting to the side of the road.
 
They sat down close together with their backs against the wall, and her head for an instant fell upon his shoulder. By a effort, she roused herself.
 
"We cannot stay here!" she protested.
 
"No," Stewart agreed. "Do you think you can climb this wall? We may find cover on the other side."
 
"Of course I can," and she tried to rise, but Stewart had to assist her. "I do not know what is the matter," she panted, as she clung to him. "I can scarcely stand!"
 
"It's the reaction," said Stewart. "It was bound to come, sooner or later. I had my attack back there on the road. Now I am going to lift you on top of the wall."
 
She threw one leg over it and sat astride.
 
"Oh, I have dropped the bundle," she said.
 
"Have you been carrying it all this time?" Stewart demanded.
 
"Why, of course. It weighs nothing."
 
Stewart, groping angrily along the base of the wall, found it, tucked it under his arm, over, and lifted her down.
 
"Now, forward!" he said.
 
At the second step, they were in a field of grain as high as their waists. They could feel it brushing against them, twining about their ankles; they could glimpse its yellow expanse stretching away into the night.
 
"Splendid!" cried Stewart. "There could be no better cover!" and he led her forward into it. "Now," he added, at the end of five minutes, "stand where you are till I get things ready for you," and with his knife he cut down great handfuls of the grain and piled them upon the ground. "There's your bed," he said, placing the bundle of clothing at one end of it; "and there's your pillow."
 
She sat down with a sigh of relief.
 
"Oh, how heavenly!"
 
"You can go to sleep without fear. No one can discover us here, unless they stumble right over us. Good-night, little comrade."
 
"But you?"
 
"Oh, I am going to sleep, too. I'll make myself a bed just over here."
 
"Good-night, my friend!" she said, softly, and Stewart, looking down at her, the sheen of her uplifted eyes, felt a wild desire to fling himself beside her, to take her in his arms——
 
he turned away and piled his own bed at a little distance. It would have been safer, perhaps, had they slept side by side; but there was about her something delicate and virginal which kept him at a distance—and yet held him too, bound him powerfully, led him captive.
 
He was filled with the thought of her, as he lay gazing up into the spangled heavens—her beauty, her fire, her indomitable youth, her clear-eyed which left him and trembling. What was her story? Where were her people that they should permit her to take such desperate risks? Why had this great mission been to her—to a girl, young, inexperienced? And yet, the choice had evidently been a wise one. She had proved herself of the trust. No one could have been quicker-witted, more ready of resource.
 
Well, the worst of it was over. They we............