Part 25 (2/2)

Although sheltered by a mound by the side of the ditch, their place of concealment was known to the peasants. The latter kept up quite a hot fire from antiquated muskets and sporting-guns. Shots whizzed overhead, and showers of pellets fell all around the two lads.

”Can't blame them,” said Rollo. ”Let's hoist the white flag; it's no disgrace in this case.”

Kenneth produced a very discoloured pocket-handkerchief. At one time it had been a white one, but owing to the various uses to which it had been put its colour resembled that tint which the French, with a reason, call ”isabelle”. For want of a staff he was obliged to hold it by his uplifted arm. In return he received a couple of pellets from a ”twelve-bore”, which, fortunately, only inflicted two punctured wounds in his skin.

”I'm not a rabbit,” muttered Kenneth, and he continued to wave the ”white flag”.

Presently the firing ceased, and a swarm of men, accompanied by several shrieking women, bore down upon the two supposed Uhlans.

”We're friends!” shouted Kenneth. ”We're English. We've escaped from the Prussians.”

He might just as well have attempted to stem a torrent with a feather.

The villagers saw only the hated uniforms of their merciless oppressors. They had no cause to grant quarter to Uhlans, for Uhlans were brutal and murderous to all with whom they came in contact when on their dreaded raids.

”A mort! A bas!” rose from the mob like the growling of a pack of half-famished animals. The two British lads were in dire peril of being torn limb from limb.

”A bas les Prussiens! Nous sommes Anglais,” shouted Kenneth again, folding his arms and trying his level best to appear calm.

A stick, hurled by a woman's hand, missed his head and struck him heavily upon the shoulder. At almost the same time Rollo was. .h.i.t by a broken brick, the missile striking him in the ribs.

”Tenez!” thundered an authoritative voice. ”Let us show these vile Uhlans that Belgians are civilized. We will give them a fair trial, and shoot them afterwards.”

”Anything for a respite,” thought Kenneth. Even in this moment of peril the Belgian speaker's idea of a fair trial tickled his sense of humour.

The man who had intervened was a short, thickset fellow, with lowering eyebrows and a crop of closely-cut hair. He was dressed in black, while round his waist was a shawl, evidently intended for a badge of office. He had donned it in such a hurry that the loops of the bows had come undone and were trailing in the dust.

Grasped by a dozen toil-hardened hands, and surrounded by the rest of the survivors of the justly exasperated inhabitants, the two lads were hurried towards the village.

”I wish we had kept on our uniforms under these, old man,” said Rollo.

”We've nothing to prove our ident.i.ty.”

”They're speaking in German. That proves their guilt,” announced one of their captors.

Neither Kenneth nor Rollo attempted to deny the statement--somewhat unwisely, for their unsophisticated guards took silence as an expression of a.s.sent to the accusation.

The military pa.s.ses provided by the Belgian Government had been destroyed--Rollo's, when captured at Cortenaeken; Kenneth's, when the lads made their hitherto beneficial exchange of uniforms. As Rollo had remarked, they possessed nothing that they could produce to prove their ident.i.ty.

Happening to look over his shoulder, Kenneth saw a peasant kicking his motor-cycle. Unable to wheel it, since its owner had slipped in the clutch previous to placing it under cover, the Belgian was venting his annoyance upon the machine.

”Stop!” shouted Kenneth. ”That's an English motor-cycle. Would you do harm to anything made by your friends the English?”

He used the word ”English” advisedly, for experience had taught him that the term ”British” is hardly known to the peasantry of Belgium.

Even the educated cla.s.ses make use of the expression ”English” more frequently than ”British”.

”Aye; do not injure it, Henri,” called out the man who evidently held the office of Mayor. ”When the English soldiers arrive to help us to drive back the Bosches it may be useful to them. Parbleu! It is useless to us.”

In front of the ruined church the villagers held a most informal trial upon their captives. From the Belgians' point of view the evidence was absolutely conclusive against the prisoners. They were in German uniforms.

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