Part 26 (2/2)
”Pardon, camarade,” he said.
Now that the danger was over, both lads felt able to accept the deep apologies of the peasants. The latter had been labouring under a genuine grievance, and their somewhat high-handed action would admit of an excuse. They were quaking in their shoes lest their former prisoners should take steps to secure their punishment; but finding themselves magnanimously treated, they responded with three hurrahs for England and the two men who had come from that country to aid stricken Belgium in her troubles.
”Now what do you propose doing?” asked the Captain. ”As for us, we must push on. We have an important reconnaissance to make.”
”We want to rejoin our regiment--the 9th of the Line, sir,” replied Kenneth.
The officer smiled grimly.
”I regret, messieurs, that I cannot help you in that direction,” he said. ”Perhaps the best thing you can do is to make your way to Brussels, and there await news of your regiment. Should anyone question you, say that I--Captain Doublebois--have instructed you. Is there anything else?”
”We've run short of petrol, sir,” announced Rollo, pointing in the direction of the motor-cycle, the handlebars of which were just visible above the edge of the ditch.
”Parbleu! Petrol is now as precious as one's life-blood.
Nevertheless, I think we may be able to spare you a litre. Corporal Fougette,” he shouted, addressing the non-commissioned officer in charge of the motor machine-gun, ”measure out a litre of petrol for these messieurs--good measure, not a drop more or less.”
The Captain stood by while Kenneth brought up the cycle and had the petrol poured into the tank.
”Now, messieurs,” he continued, ”this will suffice to take you as far as our nearest depot. After that, proceed to Brussels. I'll warrant you'll be in need of a rest, but there will be plenty to occupy your minds, or my name is not Captain Raoul Doublebois. But take my advice, messieurs, and get rid of those accursed uniforms!”
CHAPTER XX
Stranded in Brussels
It was late in the day when Kenneth and Rollo having partaken of a plain but satisfying meal on the way, arrived in Belgium's capital.
The streets were crowded with refugees from the war-inundated districts. Throngs of pale-faced women and children, for the most part unnaturally apathetic, stood in mute despair around the country carts piled high with their belongings. Many of them had seen their houses torn by shot and sh.e.l.l, their neighbours slain by the German guns.
Rendered homeless, they had fled to Brussels; their villages might be overrun and occupied by the invaders, but the capital--never! The Allies would never permit that.
Old men related the tales of their grandsires, how, almost a hundred years ago, England saved Brussels from the invader. History would, they felt convinced, repeat itself. So in their thousands the refugees poured into the already congested streets of the city.
Kenneth and his companion were indeed fortunate in securing the room they had occupied during their previous stay in the Belgian capital.
Quickly divesting themselves of the civilian garb that they had managed to procure, they threw themselves into bed and slept like logs until nine the next morning.
When Rollo attempted to rise he found that his ankle had swollen to such an extent that it was almost a matter of impossibility to set foot to ground. The excitement and continual movement of the previous day had tended to make him forget the injury, but once his boot was removed and the limb allowed to rest, inflammation and consequent enlargement of the joint were the result.
”Take it easy, old man,” suggested Kenneth. ”When we've had breakfast I'll saunter out and see how things are progressing. Let me see, what's the programme? New uniforms; money--we have about ten centimes between the pair of us. It's lucky the pater placed that fifty pounds to my credit in the bank. The trouble is, how am I to prove my ident.i.ty? Then there's Thelma. Perhaps Major Resimont's family has returned to the Rue de la Tribune, so I'll find out. I'll be gone some little time, old man.”
”I don't mind,” replied Rollo. ”Before you go, you might get hold of a paper.”
The cost of their simple breakfast was an ”eye-opener”. Already famine prices were being asked in the overcrowded city. Somewhat shamefacedly Kenneth had to explain the reason for his pecuniary embarra.s.sment; but to his surprise the short, podgy woman who corresponded to the British landlady expressed her willingness to wait until messieurs les Anglais were accommodated.
”Perhaps, although I trust not, I may have to entertain Prussians,” she added. ”Then I know it is hopeless to expect payment.”
Having had breakfast, Kenneth went out. He had put on an overcoat, lent by his obliging hostess, in order to conceal the nondescript garments he had obtained as civilian clothes.
<script>