The Belgians to the Front

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE CHAPTER XVI THE WINE SHOP In the wine shop, when they came to it, they found none of the men of Hannay. The German soldiers, off duty for a little while, had taken possession of the place, and the sound of their singing, which could be heard as soon as one came within a hundred yards of the place, showed that they were happy. The two scouts looked in as they passed the window. They saw the invaders there, looking less like soldiers than they had imagined German troops ever could look. A few of the men were resting their feet, having taken off their heavy hobnailed boots, and were sitting in their woolen socks. Some were playing cards; nearly all were smoking. "It's safe enough," said Paul. "If we can find that back entrance, I think we can get into the cellar. The worst of it is that they may have a guard there." It was Arthur who found the entrance to the cellar. He led the way down the stone steps, and they found themselves in a whitewashed vault, scrupulously clean, as are practically all Belgian houses from garret to cellar. There was a lantern, too, shedding a dim but most welcome light on the place, with its rows of casks and hogsheads. "That's a piece of luck, that lantern," said Paul. "Only it shows something we'll have to look out for—that we may have a visitor any moment. Look over there, Arthur. There's a little space behind that row of barrels. If anyone comes we can hide there." But Arthur had another idea. Before Paul could stop him, he sprang lightly up the stairs that led to the room above, whence the sound of the German soldiers came very plainly. He fumbled for a moment at the door before he returned. "I thought I might find that," he said. "I've shot a bolt on the door. That will hold anyone who tries to come down for a few moments at least, and it will give us time to get out the way we came. We may wish to escape, you see." "Good!" said Paul. "All right! Now let's try to find those guns." But of guns or weapons of any sort they could find no trace. They looked behind all the barrels and casks and under every possible hiding place. They lifted some of the barrels, though to do so was a considerable task, and the result was the same. "Perhaps they have chosen some other hiding place or else the woman did not really know, and only suspected," suggested Arthur. But that explanation did not satisfy Paul. And in a moment he had an inspiration. At once he began trying to tip back the great hogsheads at one side of the vault. The third yielded easily, and he immediately pried off its top. "Aha, here we are!" he said. "Look, Arthur! I noticed that some of these were empty, but I thought anything like a gun would rattle around inside. But do you see what they did? They have the guns here, but they're packed in with rags and sacking, so they can't move and make a noise." "That was clever!" said Arthur. "I suppose they expected the Germans to make a search." He drew out a gun, a shotgun with a sawed off barrel. The shortening of the barrel served a double purpose. It made it possible for the gun to be hidden in the barrel, and it made of it, also, at close range, a far more dangerous and formidable weapon than it had been in its original form. "What are we to do with them? Where shall we hide them?" "Nowhere. We shall put them back," said Paul. "When we have finished with them, that is. Here, let me show you!" He took the sawed off shotgun, opened the breech, and in a moment had hopelessly shattered the firing mechanism. "There, do you see? They'll find their guns—but they'll have trouble in firing them! That's better than taking them away, because it's so much safer." "Oh, I should say so!" They were busy for five minutes getting out the guns, of which there were only a dozen all told, breaking them and then putting them back. They left the place as they found it, and the guns themselves, moreover, would not immediately give up the secret of how they had been treated. "I wonder if we can't find the ammunition?" said Paul, when they had finished their work with the guns. "Then we could really finish the job." But the search for that proved vain. Though they looked everywhere they came upon no hidden store of bullets or powder. Nor had Paul really hoped that they would. "They'd carry that with them, naturally," he said. "Well, it doesn't make much difference. We—" On the word there was a noise outside. They stopped, listening. Down the steps by which they had entered came footsteps, and they first saw heavy boots and then a pair of stout legs come into the range of the lantern. For a moment they were rooted to the spot, and in that moment the rest of the descending figure came into view, and they saw that it was Raymond. In the same moment he saw them, and cried out sharply, fear and anger mingled in his voice. That ended the spell that had held them still. Arthur started a rush toward the newcomer, but Paul caught his arm. "No! Upstairs!" he cried. As he spoke, he seized the lantern from the hook where it hung, and swung it around, extinguishing the feeble flame at once. And then, as Raymond with a roar of rage started toward them, he flung the lantern straight at him. A cry of pain told him that his aim had been true, even in the darkness, and then he leaped up the stairs after Arthur, who was already fumbling at the bolt. In a moment they were through the door and had burst into the midst of the astonished soldiers in the taproom above. For just a moment their sudden appearance caused excitement and confusion among the soldiers, who must have imagined that this was a surprise attack. But then some of the men, who had seen them talking with Major Kellner earlier in the day, recognized them and a shout of laughter went up. "It is only those boys!" cried one soldier. "Here, you young ones, you must stay to supper, now that you have come!" He seized Paul and forced him into a chair, while another did as much for Arthur. "Come, landlord, your best for our guests!" cried half a dozen of the soldiers. Marcel, the landlord, who evidently knew only too well what his cellar contained beside wine and beer, was staring at them with a white, panic-stricken gaze. But he turned to obey, none the less; he was in deadly fear, it was plain, of the boyish soldiers. They might be willing to jest now, but he knew that they were the same men who fought like devils, and if reports were true (which they were not!) cut off the hands of women and children. He brought food, and one of the soldiers handed Paul a glass of wine. "Now, then!" cried the German. "You shall drink a toast to the good Kaiser Wilhelm, who is now King of Belgium as well as of Prussia, and who will eat the first course of his Christmas dinner in Paris and fly to London in a Zeppelin for the second! Skoal!" "Ja! Ja wohl! A toast to the Kaiser by the young Belgian!" cried some of the others. Paul got up, the glass held firmly in his hand. His cheeks were blazing. "I will give you a toast!" he cried. "To Kaiser Wilhelm! May he eat his Christmas dinner in Saint Helena, with the ghost of Napoleon to keep him company! And may King Albert and King George and the Czar and the president of France enjoy a dinner that shall be served to them in the palace of Potsdam!" And then he flung down the glass, so that it was shattered on the stone floor, and the red wine ran over the white flags. "And so say I and every other good Belgian!" echoed Arthur. For a moment there was a stunned silence in the room. The German soldiers, aghast at such daring, stared with open mouths and wide eyes. And then there was an angry murmur, spreading from one man to another, as the enormity of Paul's daring sank in. "He has insulted the Kaiser! He has dared to be disrespectful toward our Emperor! He has refused to drink to his health!" "Do what you like!" cried Paul, thoroughly aroused now, as Arthur had seen him roused only once or twice before, and utterly indifferent to what might happen to him. "I am not afraid of you! Come, stop us if you like!" And then while the angry muttering continued, and each of the German soldiers seemed to wait for one of the others to make the first move, Paul and Arthur, side by side, without looking to right or left, walked out of the place and into the open air of the single street of Hannay. For a moment, after they passed outside, they heard nothing, though they had expected to be pursued and brought back. And then suddenly from behind them there came the last sound they could have expected or hoped to hear—a tremendous roar of laughter! Paul's courage in defying them had won the admiration of the German soldiers at last. Brave men are nearly always ready to pay a tribute to bravery in others. But if they had escaped from one danger, they had still to face another and one that might be even greater, as they well knew. For Raymond, the butcher, had seen them in the cellar. No doubt he knew by this time what had happened to his guns, and he would certainly know who was to blame for their condition. He would be more certain than ever that they were traitors to Belgium, since he was too stupid to understand how well the scouts had served him, and it was sure that he and his cronies of the civic guard would make some attempt to secure revenge. Indeed, even as they came into the street, Paul saw a lurking figure across the way, that moved as they did. "Don't look around," he whispered to Arthur. "But I think that Raymond is watching us from the other side of the street. We must be careful." And then, suddenly, without the slightest warning, a whistling sound that both scouts knew well after their experience during the shelling of the German battery near their old home, was heard overhead. It was followed in a few seconds by a terrific explosion. But fortunately the explosion was at some distance. The shell, for it was a shell that they had heard, burst outside of the village and did no damage. But it created a tremendous effect, none the less. At once the German officers came running from the doctor's house where they were quartered, and, as more shells burst nearby, bugles sounded, and the German soldiers came running to the centre of the village, gathering rapidly from the houses where they had been enjoying their brief respite from war. Sentries and all were called in, and within three minutes the troops were off, at the double quick, going in the direction whence they had come to enter the village of Hannay. And now the comparative silence of the night, that had been broken before then only by the dull and intermittent thunder of the guns around Liege, was shattered in a thousand ways. Heavy firing by infantry rifles, as well as by field guns, came from the north. It was plain that Belgian or French troops must have been advancing with great rapidity to interfere with the German raid on the country between Liege and Brussels. Flashes of fire marked the bursting shells less than a mile away, and occasional spurts of flame showed where the German guns were replying to the sudden attack. In a moment Hannay was deserted by the Germans. And before the villagers, led by Raymond, had collected their scattered wits, Paul had seen the chance of escape. "Come on!" he cried, to Arthur. They ran as fast as they could after the Germans. CHAPTER XVII THE BATTLE They had not gone more than a hundred yards when a wild outburst of shouting behind them told them that their flight had been discovered. At least there seemed to be no reason for the people in Hannay to raise such a din. And the cries showed them, too, that they were being pursued. But such a pursuit did not frighten them. They had taken to the fields almost at once, deserting the road, and with such a start as they had it was practically impossible for them to be overtaken, especially by such stupid pursuers as Raymond and his men. So, before they had gone any great distance toward the sounds of firing, which had now increased to a point that showed that they were in the neighborhood of something very like a pitched battle, a general engagement, they slowed down to a walk and waited to see what would happen. In the road the pursuit stormed past them, but that did not last long. In a few minutes they heard the voices of the returning villagers, who had evidently decided that to keep on was too likely to bring them into the field of operations. And so for the time at least, the two scouts were free and safe. "Thank heaven that's over!" said Arthur. "Paul, I never was so frightened in my life! It seems to me that we were really between the devil and the deep blue sea back there!" "We certainly were!" said Paul, with a laugh. "The Belgians thought we sided with the Germans, and the Germans knew we didn't! I suppose it was foolish to defy them like that, but I couldn't do anything else." "I should hope not!" said Arthur. "And I don't think it was foolish at all—and neither do you, really, Paul. Perhaps they will find out, if a few more things like that happen, that it won't be so easy to conquer Belgium as they think, even if we are only a little bit of a country!" "What I'm wondering is what we'd better try to do next," said Paul, thoughtfully. "That sounds like a real battle in front of us, Arthur. The firing is getting heavier all the time, and on both sides, I think, as if more and more troops were being brought up. You see, we haven't any idea at all of what's going on, except just where we've happened to be. We haven't had any news since the Germans caught us the first time." "Can't we get to the Belgian lines?" "We can try, of course. We must bear well to the west, which will bring us behind the skirmish lines. I think the place for us to try to reach now is Tirlemont. There must be a sort of headquarters there, I think, because it's on the railway, and any railway is important in time of war. Yes, I believe that's where these troops must have come from. They could be brought there from all over Belgium, you see, and sent out to try to check the German advance." They could follow the line of the battle readily now, for the firing was heavy and well marked, showing that the line along which the fighting was going on was five or six miles long. The bursting shells, too, dotting the darkness with patches of light every few seconds, marked out the battle line, so that they could lay their course to get away from it. Both of them understood the need of doing that; it was now their business to get to some superior officers as quickly as possible with the valuable information they possessed about the German movements, though of course each hour of delay made it less likely that that information would be of any value. And on the firing line, if they were lucky enough to escape being shot, they would find no superior officers in any case, but only men charged with the duty of looking after their small, individual tasks, and too busy to pay any attention to them. It was the staff headquarters they wanted to reach. And then, while they were going on as fast as they could, over the stubble of the fields, there was a sudden shifting of the lines in front of them. Immediately before them the firing was almost doubled in violence, but on one side only. Apparently some heavier guns had been brought up by the Germans, and they saw that a terrific fire was being directed at the higher ground whence the flashes of the Belgian guns had been coming. One by one these guns were silenced, and then the bursting shells began to search out the ground in front of the Belgian artillery. Paul cried out in dismay. "What is it? What's the matter?" asked Arthur. "I'm afraid it's going badly for us there," said Paul, gloomily. "Do you see, they've put our guns out of business! Now they are sending their shells right where our men must be massed. I don't believe any troops can stand their ground long under such a fire as that." "They're still there—they're still answering, Paul!" "Yes, but listen!" Even above the roar of the battle now they could hear sounds of cheering. And, on one side, much of the lighter rifle fire now died away. "The Germans are advancing! It must be a charge against our men. And they can't have had time to intrench!" said Paul. "Look! Didn't I tell you so?" It was almost as if they had been able to see. They could follow the bending of the Belgian line as it gave way before the furious advance. The artillery firing on the German side—on the German left wing, that is, and the Belgian right—ceased. And then, nearly half a mile beyond where it had been before, the rifle fire broke out again. "There, can you tell what has happened?" asked Paul. "They've turned our wing—they must have rushed a lot of troops this way. We're holding them well enough on the other side and in the centre, but our men will have to retire very soon. It's awfully bad for us, because now the Germans are between us and Tirlemont, and I don't see how we can get around them, because they will keep spreading out, no matter how far we go," keen disappointment in his voice. "I don't see how you can tell that from here, Paul!" "Watch the flashes from the guns nearest us—those are the Germans, now. The rifles, I mean—do you see, there? They're firing pretty regularly, and the flashes are very close together. They haven't spread out much. When they're firing, it looks as if a whole lot of lightning bugs were flashing all at once, and it makes a line along the ground. That's a curved line, now. A few minutes ago it was straight." And now the German batteries opened up again on their left flank, and they were firing from a position that had been moved considerably westward since they had ceased firing after the infantry had begun pushing back the Belgian line. That was the most significant thing. These batteries had now evidently taken up a position that, at the beginning of the fight, had been held either by the most advanced of the German skirmishers or by the Belgians themselves. The German policy of concentrating the attack at one spot, which has been the policy of great generals throughout all history, had worked well for them again. But it was not the result of this fight, which could hardly be of really great importance whatever happened, that bothered Paul. It was the fact that by this sudden sweep of the German left he and Paul were again in the enemy's country, and almost hopelessly cut off from reaching the Belgian lines. For a moment he was almost ready to give up in despair. But that was not his style at all, and he soon recovered his spirits. "There's no use in sitting here and wishing that things were different," he said, at last. "Come on! Let's get back to the road! If we can't go behind our own lines, let's go behind the Germans, and see how far we can get. They may be too busy to pay much attention to us, anyhow. Oh, I wish we had some way of getting around except by walking! We're losing all this time. That's what is going to ruin everything for us, just when it seemed that we had a chance to do something." They got back to the road from which they had turned to avoid the enraged peasants of Hannay, and went along mournfully. Once they heard a loud crackling, and dodged immediately into the shelter of the hedge along the road. A German soldier, mounted on a powerful motorcycle, sped by; but he went so fast that they might have stayed in the road without attracting his attention. He came from behind them, from the direction of Hannay, and Paul groaned as they went out into the road again. "They must be in force in that direction, too," he said. "That shows that it probably wouldn't have done us much good to go back around Hannay to try to strike another road. We would only have run into a lot more Germans, I suppose, if we had." "There seem to be Germans everywhere," said Arthur. "How can there be so many of them?" "That is the way they go to war. It is their plan always to have more men than the enemy. It is a good way, too. A thousand brave men cannot beat five thousand, no matter how brave they are. The weight of numbers has won many a battle." "Listen," said Arthur. "Do you hear that? It sounds as if another motorcycle might be coming from behind us." They were climbing a stiff little grade, and were near the top. Paul stopped, and listened. "No," he said. "That's not a motorcycle, but an automobile. I wonder—" He stopped and thought for a moment. "It's still half a mile or so away. It's worth trying! It would be a chance! And it can do no harm. Arthur, do you remember how we stopped their motorcycle when those two officers were chasing us after we had escaped from the house where they had hidden the guns and the shells?" "Yes!" Arthur saw the idea at once. "We haven't any glass—but if we could find some sharp pointed stones?" "Quick! Let's look!" They were lucky. They found something better than stones—for in the field right beside the road they discovered a veritable treasure, a pile of horseshoes, rusty and worn, that had been piled up there evidently by some farmer, against the time when he should decide to carry them all to the blacksmith to be used again. In some nails still projected; all of them, at any rate, had some sharp points. They worked frantically, while the song of the motor of the approaching car seemed to din "Hurry! Hurry!" into their ears. And then, just as the gears of the car were shifted at the bottom of the hill, and it began its laborious ascent, they were finished. "Now!" cried Paul, springing back into the shadow of the hedge. "Now we'll see whether our luck has changed! It has been against us ever since we got to Huy. It is time, I think, that we had a little good fortune! Perhaps it will do us no good, even if those nails and horseshoes do puncture the tires. But we shall see!" On came the car. The hill was one of those long, steady ascents that is particularly trying to a fast motor car, high geared and meant to make great speed on the level, and it came up slowly. But just before the real crest of the hill was reached there was a lessening of the grade, and the driver shot into his high speed to get a good start. That was what Paul had hoped for; that, and something else that he had not dared to voice as a hope, so faint was the chance that it would come true. Now, however, as he saw the car, he could scarcely repress a cry of exultation. "There's only one man!" he said to Arthur. "Now if those nails will only do their part!" The car shot forward, and in a moment there was a roar as a tire blew out, and then another, and another. Three tires went, and a hissing of freed air showed that the other was punctured! CHAPTER XVIII VICTORY! There came a savage exclamation of rage from the solitary driver of the car, as it swerved violently and dangerously before he could stop it. Then, still muttering, he was out of the car and at the task of jacking it up. Evidently he was in a fearful hurry and it was easy to guess that his errand was one of the most pressing importance, for, though he kicked the horseshoes away, and so evidently understood what had caused his mishap, and knew that it could not have been accidental, he wasted no time in looking for whoever had caused it. Instead he went to work with a will, ripping off the deflated tires and attaching others. He worked fast and furiously, and with the skill of one accustomed to the task. "What are we to do now? Rush him?" whispered Arthur. "We can do it while he is bending over like that, and the two of us ought to be able to hold him down, too." "We can't take any chances," Paul whispered back grimly. He showed Arthur a horseshoe that he had retained. "He's a German officer and an enemy, and we have a right to do anything we can to damage the enemy. I'm going to hit him with this. If I do it right, he won't be able to move for some time." Arthur shuddered a little. The idea of actually attacking a man from behind in such a way was unpleasant. But he realized that Paul, who had a reputation for gentleness, could like the idea as little as he did himself, and also that it was vitally necessary to secure possession of the car, though even yet Paul's whole plan had not come to him. "All right!" he said. "Come on, then!" "No; wait until he has finished! We might as well let him do the work, and have the car ready. "But he will do the tires on this side first! He will be on the other side of the car afterward." "No, he won't. He's got to come back to side when all the tires are on because the jack is on this side. Don't you see?" "Oh, yes. I didn't think." They waited breathlessly while the German worked. There was something oddly familiar about him, but his long, flowing overcoat prevented them from seeing him very well. He wore a uniform cap, fortunately, instead of a helmet, which would have given him a much better chance since it would have been very difficult for Paul to do what he planned with a helmet in the way. Bad as the accident had been, the German worked so fast that in a very few minutes he had all the tires on, and was pumping them up as fast as possible. Then, when that was done, he came back, as Paul had seen that he must, and stooped over to remove the jack that had lifted the wheels from the ground. And that was the moment in which Paul struck. "Stay behind!" he whispered, to Arthur. "I may need your help if anything goes wrong." Then with one leap he reached the German. He landed quietly, and, though the German heard him and half turned, it was all over in a second. Paul brought down his horseshoe on the officer's skull, and he crumpled without a cry and fell in a silent heap in the roadside. "Quick!" cried Paul. "Look under the seat! There ought to be drinking water there." Arthur found a vacuum bottle, and a big gallon bottle of mineral water. This Paul broke, and, dipping a handkerchief in it, made a wet bandage for the German's head. Then he dropped the vacuum bottle where the officer must find it when he recovered consciousness. And now he did something that surprised Arthur. He stripped off the officer's coat, took his uniform jacket and his cap. These he himself donned, and, though they were far too big for him, he cried out with satisfaction at the fit of the cap. "Now do you see?" he cried. "I bet we could go through the German lines like this! Hello!" "What's wrong?" "Nothing, but this is that chap Poertner—one of the men we got away from! He was taken into Liege as a prisoner. Don't you remember? He must have got away or else the Germans must have taken the fort where they were holding him! I'm afraid it's that!" But there was no more time to be wasted. Paul leaped to the steering wheel of the car. "In with you, Arthur!" he cried. "Get down, so that you won't be seen. Down low, on the floor!" "Why?" asked Arthur, though he had obeyed before he asked the question. "You haven't any uniform. You'd be spotted at once. If they see me in this rig, they may mistake me for a German officer, you see. That's why I took it. I was sorry to have to do it, but it's war, and all's fair! Now we're off!" On the word he turned the car around, and they were really off in another moment, racing down the hill that the car had just climbed so laboriously, to have its journey so ingloriously halted. "It's a wonderful little car. They must use a lot of these for dispatch bearers," said Paul. "Arthur, isn't it lucky that Marcel showed us all about how to run different sorts of cars? I hope he's all right. I bet he enlisted too, if Uncle Henri joined the army when he went to Brussels." "It runs so smoothly and it's ever so much faster than the fastest horse, of course," said Arthur. "I suppose all the armies must be using automobiles for this sort of work. Where are you going, Paul?" "I'm going to make a great big circuit, if we're not stopped before we really get started," said Paul. "On foot we never could have got ahead of the Germans in that sweeping flank movement of theirs. But now, when we can make sixty miles an hour, I should think we ought to be able to do it. I think the worst time will be right along here in the first ten miles or so. All I'm hoping is that we don't run into the people who know where Poertner was going in this car. I think we can get by anyone else. But there's no telling where he did start from. Perhaps from Huy." "Huy? But we were there this morning—and our troops were there, too!" exclaimed Arthur, plainly puzzled. "That doesn't mean that they're there now. Huy couldn't have held out for more than a few hours against a real attack. And we had very few troops there. Our concentration seems to be further north." They swept through Hannay at a terrific pace, but not so fast as to prevent them from seeing that the wine shop was still open and that it was full of Raymond's men. Paul sounded a blast on the siren of his car, the peculiar siren that indicated its military character, and laughed at the rush of people to the door of the shop. Then they were out in the open road again. And now Paul's knowledge of the geography of the country stood him in good stead. Twinkling camp fires showed that they were running toward a country that was literally swarming with Germans. Now more than ever, it was plain that from all around Liege a great advance movement was being pushed. Despite the battle that was still raging behind them, these troops seemed to be in camp, a plain proof that the Germans must still have troops enough and to spare behind them, though here were fresh divisions that would not be engaged at all. In the southwest the lights of Huy, could be seen, but they gave no clue as to which army held the town. Only the fires that dotted the ground, clustered about Huy in a great semicircle, seemed to indicate that perhaps the Germans had not yet entered the town. They were west of it, however, though only a few, toward Namur, and Paul muttered angrily to himself as he saw that well west of Huy the fires stretched in a solid line between that place and the fortress of Namur. "We won't be able to reach Namur, I'm afraid," he said. "We might get through, but I believe that our best chance is to swing right around Huy, staying well inside the line of the fires, and slip past it, just to the west. There is a bridge there, too. I don't believe we could cross the Meuse anywhere else between Huy and Namur." Twice they passed roadside patrols of Germans, but Paul's appearance was deceptive, and the soldiers simply sprang to attention as the flying car swept by, standing with their hands raised in salute. Paul knew that at any moment he might run into a patrol less easily satisfied, but that was a chance that had to be taken. Now he was picking his way carefully, having reduced his speed a little. Twice he boldly left the road and drove the car across the soft ground of fields, for he had to follow a semicircle, and the road, had he stuck to it, would have brought him right up to one of the camps each time. But at last he was heading north and west again, and he heaved a sigh of great relief. He had to sacrifice speed now for a time to certainty. To have taken a false turn would have spelled disaster, and, though he knew the map of the country well enough, he had never traveled these roads himself. But soon all danger seemed to be over. They were coming nearer to the sounds of the battle again. These had died away for a time, and the fight had seemed to be over. But whichever side had been losing had brought up reenforcements, and as the first faint streaks of light in the east that foretold the dawn began to spread in the sky the din was louder than ever. "Where are you trying to go?" asked Arthur. "To Eghezee," said Paul. "That is a fair sized town and we ought to find a telephone exchange still working there, with wires into Brussels that haven't been cut. There is its smoke—do you see it right ahead?" Arthur raised his head to look. And he saw something else. To the right of the town, which was still two miles away, there was a moving mass of grey. "There come the Germans, too!" he groaned. "And they're nearer than we are!" Paul's answer was to urge the car to still greater speed. Arthur was right. Heavy masses of Germans—Paul guessed there was a full division of twenty thousand men—were advancing toward the town. They were still some distance away, but they were moving fairly fast. "It's the railway they're after, that line runs between Namur and Tirlemont," said Paul. "Well, we've got to risk it now. Perhaps they will catch us, but if we have any luck we'll get our messages through." They came into a town that was almost wholly deserted, as it seemed. The Germans had given warning of their coming, and the people had fled. But in the building that was used by the telephone system there were still signs of life. The door was open, and when, having left the car outside, they burst into the room that contained the big switchboard, they found a girl sitting there calmly, waiting for the calls that did not come. "Can you get Tirlemont?" cried Paul. "We must talk to the office of the headquarters staff there. Say that we have come from Liege and have a message from Major du Chaillu." The girl stared at them incredulously for a moment. She had had the pluck to stick to her post when she knew the Germans were coming, and now she went to work without argument. "If the wires are not cut!" she said. She manipulated the plugs and then, after a brief delay, pointed to an instrument. "A message from Major du Chaillu!" said a voice in Paul's ear. "Impossible—he is here!" "Thank Heaven!" cried Paul. "Call him to the telephone!" In another moment he was telling what they had learned. He gave the information concerning the great extent of the German strength first, and was rewarded by a cry of astonishment. And then he told of their situation; of how, having captured the car and fled through the whole German army, they were now almost certain to be captured. "With that coat—and the automobile!" cried du Chaillu. "My boy, I am afraid they would shoot you! How far away are they?" "Very near." "Eh? Oh, I have it! Listen!" Paul's face lighted up as he heard the plan. "Yes—yes!" he cried. "I think we can! I think there will be time for that!" There was a click. The wire had been cut somewhere between him and Tirlemont! But he did not care; he had done all that was needful. And now, shouting to Arthur to follow, he dashed from the building. "Don't delay a second!" he cried. "Come! Major du Chaillu says a train, with an engine and one car, was held here to bring money from the banks so that the Germans would not get it! He is having a telegram sent to bid it wait! The station is a quarter of a mile away!" Madly they ran through the deserted streets. Even as they ran past a wide street that entered the one in which they were, they saw the head of a German column coming down toward them. Never had they run so fast before, but even so, it seemed that they would never reach the station! But at last they were there; they dashed in—to see the train going out! "The telegram must have come too late!" said Paul. "Well, perhaps they will not know what we have done. It may not be so bad—" "Look!" cried Arthur. The train had slowed down. Now it had stopped, just by a signal tower. From the engine a man dropped, looked back, and then began beckoning them on. They ran wildly toward him, and in a moment they were being pulled on board the train. "The operator in the signal tower heard the message coming in just as we were starting," said the conductor. "He set the signal against us and told us of the message! What good luck for you! Now, if the Germans haven't cut the line, you are safe!" And safe they were. The light train carried them to Tirlemont, and there they met not only Major du Chaillu, but their uncle, now Colonel de Frenard. "We have informed the French staff of your news. It has changed the whole plan of campaign," said du Chaillu. "Namur will be abandoned; the real defence will be made on the border. Thanks to you the French have escaped the trap that was being baited for them. 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