In another minute it was out of range.
John felt the cold steel come away from his throat, and satisfied that Lannes with his precious message was safe, he looked at his captors.
They were about thirty in number, Prussian Uhlans.
"Well," said John to the one who seemed to be their leader, "what do you want with me ?" "To hold you prisoner," replied the man, in excellent English--John was always surprised at the number of people on the continent who spoke English--"and to ask you why we find an American here in French uniform." The man who spoke was young, blond, ruddy, and his tone was rather humorous.

John had been too much in Germany to hate Germans.

He liked most of them personally, but for many of their ideas, ideas which he considered deadly to the world, he had an intense dislike.
"You find me here because I didn't have time to get away," he replied, "and I'm in a French uniform because it's my fighting suit." The young officer smiled.

John rather liked him, and he saw, too, that he was no older than himself.
"It's lucky for you that you're in some kind of a uniform," the German said, "or I should have you shot immediately.

But I'm sorry we didn't take the man in the aeroplane instead of you." John looked up again.