Horace Gray Gilliland, My German Prisons
“ For a moment we listened to hear if the sentry was on his return beat—we could not be sure. In that moment of waiting the moon came{287} out again clear and bright, and the steps of the sentry were coming nearer and nearer. He could not fail to see us; our dark bodies against the glistening white of the road must stand out in relief. We lay still, hardly breathing. ”
