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sense. If I'd had my way. . . ."
    "Oh, shut up," Kolodzi interrupted. "If you'd had your way, you'd have had us hanged long ago."
    "We can always make Wertheim." Vohringer felt in his pocket and brought out a folded map. "Found it here," he said ponderously, "map of Czecho. We can mark out a route."
    "The devil we can. In this snow you have to keep to the road, and on the road you'd run into plenty of patrols. Besides, what should I do in Wertheim? You've got your family there, but what about me?"
    Vohringer was silent.
    "How far is it to Wertheim?" Kolodzi asked after a pause.
    "Nearly six hundred miles."
    "Nearly six hundred." Kolodzi laughed. "You must have a screw loose. Maybe you've chartered a plane?"
    "Then don't talk such crap to me," said Vohringer sullenly. "You started all this."
    "Not in the way you meant. We're deserting on Schmitt's instructions."
    Vohringer stopped in the middle of lighting a cigarette. "What!"
    "Just what I said." Kolodzi lay back and explained the whole thing, while Vohringer listened with mounting astonishment. "It's pretty crazy, I suppose," Kolodzi said, "but I like the plan. It'll be a good break for us."
    "Good break!" Vohringer leapt to his feet. "Good break you say!" He flung his arms in the air. "The partisans won't play, of course, but the thing is terrific, absolutely terrific. The opportunity—well, isn't it?" Without waiting for an answer, he dashed to the table, spread out the map and studied it closely: "From here," he said feverishly, "we go by Linz, Passau, Straubing, Regensburg, Nurnberg, Furth, and so to Wertheim. We can do it in a month."
    "You can," said Kolodzi. He had his hands clasped behind his neck, and was blinking up at the fight.
    Vohringer's thin rat-like face glowed with excitement.
    "Don't be pig-headed," he said urgently, sitting down by Kolodzi. "You don't want your number to come up just before the curtain comes down, do you?"
    "No, I don't, and that's exactly why I'm staying here." Kolodzi leaned on his elbow, and said firmly: "I've told you over and over again that I wouldn't do it. Besides" —he pointed to Schmitt's binoculars on the table in their dark leather case—"I promised to bring that thing back again."
    "Where did you get them?" Vohringer asked irritably.
    "From Schmitt; he says they're an heirloom. And one more thing: Herbig's coming with us."
    "Herbig!" Vohringer jumped up again. "You're kidding."
    "Why not?"
    "But that's crazy, man." Vohringer cried beseechingly. "Herbig of all people. Can't the two of us manage the thing alone?"
    "Two people aren't enough. One of us might have to go and report to Schmitt; then it would be useful to have someone else there."
    "But not Herbig."
    "He's reliable."
    "He's an informer," cried Vohringer. "A damned informer."
    "Why are you so damned set against Herbig?" asked Kolodzi. "Just because he was a Hitler Youth leader, that doesn't make him an informer."
    "I can't stand the man," Vohringer declared furiously. He sat down at the table and stared disconsolately at the floor. "I can't make any plans with him around. Do you know I haven't seen my son yet? Can you imagine what that feels like?"
    "How old is he?"
    "Eight months. So you insist on Herbig?"
    "Yes."
    "That's your last word?"
    "Yes."
    "Well, I suppose I’ll have to come all the same," said Vohringer with a sigh. His anger spurted up again. "But I warn you, if he starts talking any of his damned muck, I'll let him have it."
    "He could put you in his pocket," said Kolodzi.
    "I don't know what you see in that bastard," Vohringer said sulkily.
    Knowing he was jealous, Kolodzi smiled. "If anyone's going to find the general, it'll be the three of us together. Wait and see if I'm not right."
    "The general can stay lost for all I care. He was a stupid bastard anyhow."
    "He never got in my way," Kolodzi remarked.
    Vohringer stood up. I'll go and tell Herbig."
    A few minutes later he returned grinning. "The man didn't believe it. Told me he didn't want to be a