The "prison" to which he found himself taken consisted of a high barbed wire enclosure, with a small wooden building at one end, and another end of the enclosure fenced off for officers.
Into the building Dick was taken first.

It contained only one room and was evidently used as a booking and record office.
Again he was asked his name by an officer behind a desk.

As before Prescott refused to state anything further than that his name was Richard Prescott, and that he was a captain of infantry in the American Army.
"But you will have to tell us more than that," objected the German officer blandly.
"I'll answer any questions you may put to me," promised Dick, "but I won't agree, in advance, to answer them truthfully." Another bald effort was made to force him to answer questions, but Dick gave evasive replies that carried no information.
"Take the fellow to the officers' section," ordered the man at the desk, at last.
So through a dark yard Prescott was led between rows of prisoners sleeping on the ground.

Some of them, too cold and miserable to sleep, stirred uneasily as the newcomers passed by.
It was the same in the officers' section.

Though the night was cold, all prisoners were sleeping on bare ground in the open.
There were some four hundred prisoners in this lot, all French except Prescott.
In the officers' section he found some twenty men, also all French.
Two of them sat up as Dick entered.
"Hola!" cried one of them in his own tongue.