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when Johann came up to him.
    The boy’s excited face became grave too. He bent down and touched Miller’s brow. He drew back his hand quickly, and his mouth became set. He said nothing. He straightened his backand stood quietly there, looking down at the dead man’s face. There was a band of white flesh at the edge of Miller’s hair, where even the desert sun hadn’t managed to reach the skin. You saw it clearly now, as he lay with his head thrown stiffly backward. The blue eyes stared up at the damp stone ceiling.
    Lennox glanced at Johann Schichtl’s broad-boned face, impassive and yet somehow all the more expressive. The boy kept his silence. Miller had been right, Lennox thought. Miller had liked and trusted this boy. And this boy had really liked Miller. Johann suddenly looked at him, and Lennox felt ashamed of his initial distrust, of his unreasoning dislike of the boy. He looked quickly down again at Miller, and tried to straighten his friend’s body into a decent sleep.
    “Who’s this?” an officer was asking. His voice was hard, his hand was on Johann’s shoulder.

4
    “Who’s this fellow?” the officer repeated. His faded insignia showed he was a captain in the Tank Corps.
    Lennox rose to his feet, and unconsciously stood beside Johann. Something in the officer’s high-pitched voice, in his way of repeating the question so insistently, annoyed Lennox. What did he think Lennox was? A blasted idiot? Johann wouldn’t have been alive if he had been an enemy. Lennox remembered Miller’s words that afternoon. He repeated them now. “He’s all right,” he said, and then remembered to add “sir.” Johann’s anxious face was turned towards him. The boy’s light blue eyes were worried as he listened to the English voices. The officer’s hand left his shoulder, and the worried look eased.
    “He’s a friend, sir,” the captain reported in his turn to a colonel who was watching the group curiously.
    The colonel nodded. “Where are all the guards?” he asked Lennox.
    “They left before the fight started, sir,” Lennox answered. He looked bitterly at the officers’ insignia. All that old stuff again, sirs and salutes and sirs. “Johann, here, scared the daylight out of them with the news.”
    “And what was that?” the colonel asked quickly.
    “The South Tyrol is no longer Italian.”
    The colonel half-smiled and glanced at Johann’s face. “And Johann belongs to the South Tyrol?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Any other news? We heard rumours of peace on our journey north.”
    “The Eyties have surrendered, sir.”
    The officers exchanged broad grins. “Better tell the others,” the senior officer said. “And tell them there’s no more fighting to be done here meanwhile. Seemingly the rest of the guards have upped and left us.” He stood watching Johann. “I’d like to see you once we straighten things out here,” he said in very precise German.
    Johann looked worried. He answered quickly, and at some length.
    “What the dickens is he talking about?” the colonel asked in amazement.
    “I didn’t catch all of it, sir, but I think he was saying that he wants to leave now. He says he has proved that we can trust him.”
    “Yes, but he’s just the chap we need. Tell him to stay here meanwhile. Better keep beside him. You seem to understand his lingo.”
    “I’ve got accustomed to the accent, sir.”
    “Well, stay with him. We want to be sure we don’tmisunderstand him when we have time to question him.”
    Lennox said, “Yes, sir.” He spoke without any enthusiasm. He had a uniform upstairs. He had a map and money. He had his plan. Now would be the time to use them. Darkness was coming, and he could have been far from here by daybreak. He would have managed it, too; this time he would have escaped. It was just his blasted luck, he thought: seven months of planning for nothing. And then, as he saw Miller lying at his feet, his lips tightened, and he stopped grousing about his