But the penciled notes on this one made easy reading.

At his first glance he saw, "Correct range, 1,800 yards"; "this stream not fordable"; "slope of hill 15 degrees inaccessible for artillery." "Wire entanglements here"; "forage for five squadrons." Jimmie's eyes flashed.

He shoved the map inside his shirt, and with the gun motioned toward the base of the hill.

"Keep forty feet ahead of me," he commanded, "and walk to your car." The stranger did not seem to hear him.

He spoke with irritation.
"I suppose," he said, "I'll have to explain to you about that map." "Not to me, you won't," declared his captor.