Ziegler's force crouches in a patch of woodland, scanning the darkness. There are several groups of enemy sentries. Choosing an approach route that minimises the number of sentries that might see them, the colonel decides that his best bet is to make a dash from his position to another area of woods directly ahead. The perfect moment never seems to arrive however, with enemy sentinels turning this way and that, constantly on alert. Finally, with time, unlike his troops, marching on, Ziegler decides it's time to rely again on Fraulein Karlotte.
(Above) Karlotte disappears into the darkness. Ziegler waits nervously, flicking Gefreiter Schultz when the latter fiddles too hard with his horn. Karlotte crosses to the sentries. However, things do not go as planned.
'Halt! Who goes there!' cries one of the sentries.
'T'is only I, a winsome milkmaid who has lost her cow, and wants nothing more than to pump some udders'.
'Approach and be recognised!' cries the Gelderlander.
Karlotte appears. 'Do not shoot sirs! I am without my cow what has got lost a little way over there'. She points vaguely into the dark. 'Will you not come and help me? You can watch me milk him'.
The sentry thinks about this for one one-thousandth of a second before saying 'Right on! Lead the way!'
'By no means!' cries the second sentry, pointing his musket at the milkmaid. 'For this is no lost maiden! This is a spy!'
'No!' says his compatriot incredulously. 'Say it isn't so!'
'It isn't so?' replies Karlotte.
'Indeed it is so!' replies the suspicious sentry. 'For no real milkmaid would ever milk a "him". That would be quite fruitless. And also, rather perverse'.
'But', says his compatriot protesting, 'look at the size of that bucket. Such a commodious appliance surely could belong only to an experienced milk extraction professional'.
'No, no, no! Self-evidently, this is an English spy, no doubt in league with the Nabstrians'.
'An English spy?'
'It's too obvious. Women's clothing; weak double entendres; it's a plain as a metal tool for smoothing wood that this is no German milkmaid! By the familiarity that they display with the wearing of ladies' garments, I should think that this is an English marine or guards officer. Look at the beard!'
'That's her nose'.
'Let us not quibble! We should probably shoot her, but I have determined instead that we - or rather you - will take her instead to headquarters for interrogation'.
The two begin trudging into Schrote.
Karlotte, however, is a professional. She stops, trying apparently to take out a kerchief to blow her beard. 'Can you carry my bucket?' she says to her guard.
'Of course, of course', he nods.
'Here', she says, 'and I can hold your musket for you if that makes things easier'.
'Thank you miss, that would make things easier. Here you go'.
The soldier then stops. 'Oh', he says, noticing that he is now armed with a bucket, and his prisoner is now armed with a musket. 'Hang on ...'
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