Part 5 (2/2)

Away on their right came the rapid booming of light artillery fire.

Beyond the woods of Verviers a thick cloud of black smoke rose sullenly in the heavy air.

Their route lay along a fairly level road bounded on each side by tall trees. In the centre was a strip of _pave_, but between it and the ditch on either hand was a dusty path which afforded good going. The cyclists were soon touching thirty miles an hour, the rapid beats of their engines drowning the noise of the distant cannonade.

Once they had to slow down in order to allow a cart to draw up on one side. The floor of the cart was covered with straw, and on the straw lay some strange objects. The lads did not realize what these burdens were. They were new to the game of war, but not for long.

Presently they noticed a group of soldiers approaching. Thrice the lads sounded their horns without effect. Again they had to slow down.

”Good heavens! Look!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Kenneth.

The men were limping painfully. One had his arm thrown around a comrade's neck, and his head falling limply upon the other's shoulder.

Another, his head bound by a blood-stained scarf, was using the b.u.t.t of his rifle as a crutch.

”There's been an action already,” said Rollo.

”Yes, and on the Vise road,” added his companion. ”Let's push on. I hope we are not too late.”

During the slowing-down process the thunder of the guns became horribly distinct. There was terrific firing in the direction of Argenteau.

More, there were heavy Belgian losses, for the men they had just pa.s.sed were but the van of a ghastly procession of wounded.

At Argenteau a body of reserves was in possession of the village.

Barricades had been hastily constructed, walls of buildings loopholed, and barbed-wire entanglements placed across the road.

”Halte-la!”

Rollo came to a standstill with the point of a Belgian bayonet within a couple of inches of his chest. Kenneth, who was twenty yards in the rear, almost as promptly alighted.

”Qui v'la?” demanded the sentry.

”Dispatches for Captain Leboeuf,” replied Kenneth.

The man recovered his arms.

”May you have the good fortune to find him!” said he. ”Our troops have been compelled to fall back in the face of superior numbers. Turn to the right, then take the first road to the left. It will bring you back to the Vise road.”

Following the sentry's direction the lads found that the route was still open, although soldiers and peasants were standing ready to barricade that exit.

A couple of miles farther on the motor-cyclists reached the firing-line--a comparatively weak detachment of infantry holding a hastily-constructed trench.

Overhead the shrapnel was flying, the iron hail for the most part bursting harmlessly in the rear. On the left the great guns of Fort de Pontisse were sh.e.l.ling the dense ma.s.ses of German troops as they vainly sought to cross the Meuse.

A sh.e.l.l, happily without exploding, struck the pave five yards from the spot where Kenneth dismounted, burying itself in a hole at least two feet in depth.

”Into the ditch with the bikes,” shouted Kenneth; and having a.s.sisted Rollo to place his steed in a place of comparative safety, he returned, and, helped by his companion, managed to shelter his own cycle.

”What's to be done now?” asked Rollo.

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