Part 11 (1/2)

”Yes.”

”I believe he's a spy. He is really looking more at the men than at the benches. We must be very careful, or one of those fellows will get in our way.”

”It will be the worse for him,” muttered Dale under his breath, as he went on with his work with redoubled energy.

”And for us too,” replied Max, lifting a heavy sh.e.l.l with an ease that many of the regular workmen, practised though they were, could not have excelled.

The man stopped when he reached the bench on which Max and Dale were working. ”Where are you from?” he enquired sharply, in very indifferent Walloon.

”Yonder,” replied Max, nodding towards the poorer quarter of the town.

”Back of Rue Gheude.”

”You're a Belgian, eh?”

”Yes,” admitted Max with an appearance of reluctance.

”Why do you come here to work? Many of your countrymen refuse to work.”

”One must live,” replied Max sullenly. Then he went on in an angry tone: ”We have been deserted and left to starve. Why shouldn't we work? They should protect us, these French and English, if they want us to remain on their side. Are we to let our little ones perish for their sakes?”

”You are right, my friend,” replied the man approvingly. ”These English and Frenchmen care naught so long as their country is safe. Why should Belgians fight their battles for them? No, no, my friend.”

Max nodded and turned back to his work. The man watched him for a minute or two and then continued on his way along the shop, scarcely glancing at Dale, who was to all appearances too engrossed in his work to pay much attention to what was going on about him.

”End of round No. 1,” whispered Max to his friend. ”We've got the better of Mr. Ferret so far, but I fear we shall have trouble in getting many live sh.e.l.ls away from under the noses of him and his tribe.”

”We shall do it,” replied Dale confidently. ”We may get the job of loading them up on the lorries presently and find an opportunity. If the worst comes to the worst we must carry medium-sized ones away one by one in our folded coats.”

”H'm!” grunted Max. ”We must find a safer way than that I fancy. I doubt if our ferret friends would let us do much of that sort of thing.”

Dale shrugged his shoulders in contempt of the whole of the spy crew, and the conversation dropped.

For some two weeks Max and Dale worked in the filling-shops, observing the routine and making careful note of every circ.u.mstance that seemed to offer a chance of making off with supplies of finished sh.e.l.ls. They soon found that they had reason to congratulate themselves upon having joined the night s.h.i.+ft. Max had accepted the foreman's offer of the night s.h.i.+ft for two reasons: first, because he thought that their disguises were less likely to be penetrated in artificial light, and, secondly, because they might reasonably expect to be quite safe during their journeys to and fro in the dark. But he found that an even greater advantage to their projects lay in the fact that the shop was only half manned at night, the work, and especially the supervision, were less efficient, and the yards, while well lighted, contained plenty of deep shadows suited to shelter those on dubious errands.

As soon as he could, Max got into touch with his friend Dubec and the workmen who had remained faithful to their country's cause. He had brought ample funds with him from the moneys recovered from the firm, and hoped to relieve any who might be in acute distress. He soon found plenty of outlet for his funds, for the men who refused to work in the shops were drawing terribly near the edge of starvation.

As Max had expected, the knowledge that their employers were standing by them, and were ready to aid them at every opportunity, greatly heartened the men, and a small but loyal band steadily refused to work, and fought a gallant battle with starvation in the cause of their country's freedom. Between Max and these men an unbreakable, unforgettable bond of union was gradually forged; and several times, to their unbounded delight, he was able to use them in furthering his projects. He found them particularly useful in obtaining information and in keeping watch over the movements of M. Schenk and his numerous spies. Patriotism, resentment at their sufferings, and hatred of Schenk, all combined to render them zealous auxiliaries, and lightened, in some measure at least, the heavy task fate seemed to have cast upon Max's own shoulders.

CHAPTER XI

The Attack on the Power-house

Some three weeks after Max and Dale had so un.o.btrusively re-entered the Durend works, their plans were laid and their preparations complete.

Eight large sh.e.l.ls had been carried off one by one and secreted in a hole in the bank of the Meuse, at a spot where it was well shaded by thick bushes. The power-house had been carefully reconnoitred, and the times and habits of the men and of the sentries carefully noted. The bulk of the great engines which provided the power required to run the various workshops were underground, and all the approaches to the building were commanded by two sentries stationed at opposite corners.

The success of their enterprise was dependent upon one of these sentries being put out of action for some minutes. This was no easy matter, but by dint of much discussion and careful observation they reached the conclusion that it could be done; and, better still, done so that no alarm need be given.

A Sunday night was fixed for the attempt, because Max and Dale had never worked on Sundays, and their absence would not therefore be likely to arouse any subsequent suspicion that they had had anything to do with the matter. Moreover, all departments of the works were run on reduced staffs, and the staff of the power-house was reduced proportionately.