AID AND COMFORT TO THE ENEMY Tom Slade, dispatch-rider, knew well enough what _kamerad_ meant.

He had learned at least that much of German warfare and German honor, even in the quiet Toul sector.

He knew that the German olive branch was poisoned; that German treachery was a fine art--a part of the German efficiency.

Had not Private Coleburn, whom Tom knew well, listened to that kindly uttered word and been stabbed with a Prussian bayonet in the darkness of No Man's Land?
"Stand up," said Tom.

"Nobody can talk to _me_ crouching down like that." "Ach!" said the voice in the unmistakable tone of pain.