Fred was about to question the man who had relieved him of von Glahn's
weight when there was a sudden rush, and Boris, sobbing with delight,
threw his arms about him and kissed him on both cheeks.
"Here--I say, Boris, don't do that!" he cried.
"Oh, I forgot that is not your custom!" said Boris. "But I thought you
were dead! I thought they had killed you! I saw them bring you out from
my window, and if the sentry had not stopped me, I would have thrown
myself out to join you! Come with me--my father is here!"
Fred was still dazed. His escape had been so miraculous that he wanted
to pinch himself to see if he were still awake. A month before he had
been at home in America, envied by the rest of his patrol because he was
actually to go to far-off Russia by himself. And since then he had been
three times a prisoner, had been in danger of exile to Siberia, and just
now had escaped by mere seconds meeting a blast of bullets from a German
firing squad, a victim of a war that had not even been dreamed of when
he had sailed from America!
But there could be no real doubt of the truth as he followed Boris into
the house. In the dining-room where he had been sentenced to death, he
came upon Lieutenant Ernst, chatting amiably with half a dozen Russian
officers in their white coats.
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