Part 4 (1/2)

”And our motor-cycles?”

”Helas, messieurs, it is a fact. Nevertheless, the Government will pay----”

”Where are they taken to?” asked Kenneth.

”They were placed in a transport wagon, monsieur. It left in the direction of Liege not fifteen minutes ago.”

”Let's hurry and catch it up,” suggested Rollo. ”It's daylight robbery. I believe that rascally innkeeper has played a trick on us.”

Alternately running and walking, the English lads kept up a rapid pace along the road that followed the right bank of the Meuse between Argenteau and Liege. Mile after mile they went, without a sign of a transport wagon. Troops there were in plenty, all carrying entrenching tools in addition to arms. Yet, in spite of these warlike movements, the women were toiling unconcernedly in the fields, either indifferent to the danger that threatened them, or else basking in the confidence of the ability of the Belgian troops and their allies to thrust back the approaching tide of invasion.

At the village of Wandre Rollo gave vent to a shout of delight.

Standing outside an inn was an army wagon, and under its tilt, in company with a medley of other articles, were their motor-cycles.

”Now, what's to be done?” asked Rollo.

”I vote we take them and make off as hard as we can,” suggested Kenneth. ”The soldiers in charge are evidently after more official loot.”

”Won't do,” replied the cautious Rollo. ”Ten to one we would hopelessly damage the bikes getting them off the wagon. The best we can do is to tackle the fellow in charge.”

”The fellow in charge” turned out to be a phlegmatic Walloon corporal.

When appealed to he replied that he was acting under the orders of his lieutenant, and that he must account for all the articles on his list upon his return to Liege. The production of Major Resimont's pa.s.s did not save the situation, although the Belgian's demeanour thawed considerably.

”Nevertheless, if messieurs are English, perhaps they would like to ride on the wagon. At Liege, no doubt, all will be set right,” he added.

It was, fortunately, the last of that particular corporal's work, and he was at liberty to return without delay. A sapper drove, the corporal sitting beside him on the box seat. On the tail-board, with their backs against their precious motor-cycles, sat the two lads, another sapper keeping them company.

As the cart jolted through the village of Jupille there came a dull rumbling, like that of distant thunder.

”Guns!” exclaimed Rollo.

”Thunder, I think,” declared his chum.

The Belgian soldier, when questioned, merely remarked in matter-of-fact tones:

”We are blowing up the bridges, monsieur.”

The work of demolition had already begun. The Belgian troops, with commendable forethought, had destroyed four bridges across the Meuse in order to delay the momentarily expected German advance. Yet, on either side of the sluggish river, peasants were unconcernedly toiling in the fields.

As the wagon pa.s.sed the loftily-situated and obsolete fort of La Chatreuse a round of cheering could be heard from the city of Liege.

Presently the strains of ”La Brabanconne”--the Belgian National Anthem--could be distinguished above the din.

The sapper began to grow excited.

”All is well, messieurs,” he exclaimed. ”We are now ready for these Prussians. Our Third Division has arrived.”

Presently the head of the column of blue-greatcoated troops swung blithely along the road to take up positions in the newly-constructed trenches between Fort de Barchon and Fort de Fleron. The men marched well, although covered with dust from head to foot; for during the previous forty-eight hours they had, by forced marches, covered more than eighty miles from Diest to their allotted positions at Liege.

Yet, for some unaccountable reason, these troops went into what was soon to be the firing-line in blue tunics with white facings, which would offer a conspicuous target to their foes.

It was late in the afternoon when the cart drew up in a large open s.p.a.ce by the side of the Church of St. Jacques. The square was crowded with all kinds of military transport and commissariat wagons. Officers were shouting orders, men were rus.h.i.+ng hither and thither, motors were popping, horses neighing.