"Come along with me," said du Chaillu, when they had left Madame de Frenard in the station. "I'll see that you're put up for the rest of the night, and to-morrow we'll make other arrangements."
"Thank you," said Paul, "but I think we'd better go back. A good many things were saved, after all, when the house was burned. When so much was destroyed I think we ought to try to safeguard what remains, for my uncle's sake. And there is a place there where we can sleep very well, thank you."
"H'm!" Du Chaillu looked more than doubtful. "But there is no telling how soon the Germans will be there. Had you thought of that?"
"They won't hurt us, sir," said Paul.
"No, I suppose not. There's no reason for them to make war on boys or any other non-combatants. One word of warning, though. If the Germans do come before you can get away again, don't make any move against them. All the fighting must be done by soldiers. The Germans consider it is murder if a civilian fires on them, and they are in the right, according to the rules of war. They are justified in making any reprisals. So be careful yourselves, and warn all the men about your place. Tell them the message is from me. General Leman has issued orders that no civilians are to oppose the Germans or give them any excuse for destroying undefended places."
"I understand, sir," said Paul. "Then we may go?"
"Yes. But be careful. We have seen aeroplanes of the Germans already—one of our flyers chased one of their Taubes early in the evening. They dropped bombs on Fort Boncelles."
"I never thought of that!" exclaimed Arthur, sharply. "Do you suppose one of their aeroplanes could have dropped a bomb that would have set our house afire?"
"It is possible," said du Chaillu, shortly. "They might not have realized what they were doing. I hope they did not, if that is what happened. It is not the sort of work for soldiers."
"It makes very little difference now," said Paul. "The house is burned, so it doesn't matter, I suppose, how it came to catch fire. We will go back, then, major."
"Very well. Report to me at headquarters here when you return, although by that time I may be on duty in one of the forts. I cannot tell; we of the staff are in one place one minute, and far away the next. Good-night, again, and better luck, this time, than my wishes brought you before."
"Good-night!" they echoed, and set out to find their carriage. But before they reached it Paul stopped.
"I want to go to Henri Creusot's house," he said. "There is something in the stable there we shall need. I suppose we can't wake him up, but I shall get what I want, even if we cannot."
Arthur followed him willingly, although Paul volunteered no explanation of what it was that he was after. And he remained on guard outside the stable while Paul went in, to reappear presently with a large and cumbrous burden—a sack bulging with the spoil of his little raid. Then they went to the carriage, and soon they were driving back toward the ruined house. When they reached it the dawn was beginning to break in the east—toward Germany! It was a red, menacing dawn—the sort of daybreak one might well have expected to see in such a time. About the smouldering remains of the fine house the men employed about the place were still grouped. It seemed all had decided that in some mysterious fashion the Germans were responsible for the ruin that had been wrought, and they were talking sullenly of what they meant to do to the enemy.
Paul gave quick directions for housing and hiding the pictures and the few fine pieces of furniture that had been saved. When all that he ordered had been done there seemed a good chance that what the flames had spared would be safe from further risk. Then he and Arthur went over to look at the garage, which had not been touched by the fire.
"This is a piece of good luck, anyhow," said Paul, when he found the little building untouched. "I think we'll live here as long as the Germans will let us, Arthur, which probably won't be very long, even if we pretend to be stupid. We can be mighty comfortable."
"Of course we can," said Arthur. "It will be like a picnic, or like camping out, won't it?"
"I'm afraid it won't," said Paul. "But we'll make the best of it, anyway. Come along to the house. I think the ruins are cool enough for us to find out what I want to know."
He led the way and Arthur followed. But it was not to the house that Paul went first. Instead, he led the way to a post that had carried the telephone wire, and, finding the wire, began to follow it toward the wing where it had entered the house.
"What on earth are you looking at that telephone wire for?" asked Arthur, completely mystified. "It seems to me that that's the least important thing there is left."
"I think it's going to be about the most important thing!" said Paul, surprisingly. "Go get a shovel, will you? Or rather two, for we've got some digging to do."
Arthur obeyed, as he always did, but he was thoroughly mystified. And no light was shed upon the mystery when he returned, to find that Paul had disconnected the wire in the ruins of the house and was dragging it away from the post where it entered the grounds. But now Paul explained.
"Do you remember that several of the crosses on those maps we found were right over there?" he asked, pointing in a direction east of the burned house.
"Y—es," said Arthur, with an effort to remember. "Oh, yes, I do, now!"
"Well, that means that there will be a battery there. Do you see how it's screened? The woods hide it completely. It doesn't make any difference to the Germans that they can't see their target—they've got a fixed range, because they know just where the forts are, and they'll get the range of anything else from their aeroplanes."
"Yes, I see that."
"Well, I think this battery is likely to turn out to be the most important one on this side. I think that they will depend on it to silence Boncelles and Embourg. We haven't many aeroplanes and it's going to be mighty hard for our people in the forts to tell what the effect of their shell fire is, and to correct the range, especially if the Germans use comparatively light guns that they can move about, as I think they will. Now do you see?"
"Not quite—"
"Suppose we stay here in the garage? There's a chance that they may let us, isn't there? Well, if they do, we can see whatever goes on, with a little care. And if we have a buried telephone wire leading to Boncelles we can report just what happens when a shell is fired, and they can correct their aim. That's why I want to dig a trench for that wire from some distance outside the grounds here, and run it under the garage—into the pit, you know."
"Oh, now I see! You mean we would stay here and pretend not to have any idea of what's going on, while we were really sending information to the forts?"
"Yes. Now the first thing we've got to do is to tap that wire and tell them in Liege what we are doing, so that they can give us direct connection with Boncelles. Then we'll try to hide the wire, so that the Germans won't find it."
Now the mysterious errand Paul had had in Liege was explained. He had brought with him all he thought he could use of a lot of wire and telephone instruments that one of their fellow scouts had used in setting up a miniature telephone exchange of his own, with wires connecting his house with that of some of his chums.
"We'd better dig the trench and bury the wire first because we've got to be very careful in filling it up again, so that no one will notice what's been done," said Paul. "That's the most important part. You see, if we were caught at this we'd be treated as spies—and that's what we'll really be."
"Isn't there a chance that they won't really come as far as this?" asked Arthur.
"Yes, there is and a very good chance, too, I think. Really, if they do come up to this point, I believe we won't have much chance. But the grounds here will be well within the range of the guns from the forts, and I don't think they'll do any infantry work until they've tried to beat down our forts with their big guns. Not from this side, anyway. If they try to take Liege by storm they're more likely to attack between Liers and Pontisse, or between the Meuse and Barchon. The country's more open there. Here, you see, the Ourthe runs between Boncelles and Embourg, and the two forts command all the approaches. So I think there's a good chance for us. But we have got to take precautions, of course, because they are almost sure to throw out their scouts as far as this in the beginning, even if they recall them after the guns start firing."
Neither of the scouts thought of being tired after that. Arthur began the work of digging out the shallow trench in which they meant to bury the wire, while Paul tapped the main wire and explained to an officer at headquarters in Liege what they planned. It took him some time to overcome the doubts of this officer, but finally it was arranged that his wire should be connected with Fort Boncelles direct, and he talked to that important link in the chain of defending forts for some time, making final arrangements.
"No matter what happens, of course," he said, "you mustn't call us, because if we're quiet for any length of time, it may mean that the Germans are around us. We will watch the firing, after it begins, and tell you whatever we can find out."
Then he returned to help Arthur, and they worked until it was broad daylight. By that time they had the wire well hidden, so that it was entirely invisible. It came out under the garage, and the instrument at its end was well concealed in the pit under the place where the big car stood when repairs were to be made.
"Well, that's done!" Paul exclaimed at last, with a deep sigh of satisfaction. "Are you tired, Arthur?"
"I wasn't just a minute ago," said Arthur, rubbing his eyes. "But now I'm so sleepy that I feel as if I could go off standing up!"
"Well, there's no reason why we shouldn't get some sleep now. I'm like you. As long as we still had something to do I didn't feel tired. But now,—"
A great yawn interrupted him. They surveyed their work with blinking eyes, then they crept up to the little room above the garage, and in less than a minute were sound asleep.
It was broad daylight when they went asleep; when they awoke dusk had fallen. Paul woke first, and he went to the window and looked out. Everything, seemingly, was just as it had been when they had last looked out. The scene was one of profound peace. From the window he could not see the burned house, a patch of blackened ruin in the fair landscape. The fading light played on the leaves just as it had a thousand times before; shadows lay along the little mossy patches, the corners of the lawns that he knew so well.
"Wake up, Arthur!" he said, turning to his chum.
He had to shake Arthur before he could arouse him.
"It isn't time to get up yet—it's still dark, Paul," protested Arthur, sleepily. But then he began to recover his wits, and he dragged himself up, and went with Paul to the window. For a few moments they were quiet, listening.
"Perhaps they're not coming—perhaps it's all a false alarm. I don't hear any guns."
"Look!" said Paul, gripping him suddenly by the shoulder. He pointed to the road. Against the sky stood a horse, on its back a silent rider with a spiked helmet, in his hand a long lance. A German Uhlan!
"They've come, then!" said Paul. "That means war. Look at his uniform—I never saw a German soldier looking like that before."
It was true. The uniform seemed to melt into the landscape; it was indeterminate, greenish gray in color. Even the spike of the helmet did not catch the rays of the sinking sun; it was covered with the dull, neutral colored cloth.
"I hope he isn't going to stay there," said Arthur. Their voices had sunk to whispers. Though there was no chance that the vidette would hear them, his very presence had the effect of quieting them. There was a tremendous difference, somehow, between thinking of an invasion, between realizing that it was inevitable that German troops should pour into Belgium, and the actual sight of one of the enemy.
"I don't think he will," said Paul. "He's just scouting, I think. Probably he will ride back soon. And they can't be very near—the main body, that is. If they were we'd hear something of them."
Then before Arthur could answer, something happened. The air trembled, and a dull sound, echoing again and again, came to them. The two scouts stared at one another; then they turned, together, to look at the Uhlan, and saw that he had heard it, too, and was listening sharply. The light was full on his face, and they could see that it wore an awed expression. And well it might! They had heard the sound of the first heavy gun that was fired in anger in the war of the nations!
"That gun was some distance away. I should think it might have been fired at Fleron," said Paul. "The siege must have begun."
And now the air was full of sound. First from one side, then from the other, batteries and forts joined in the chorus. All around them, it seemed, the great voices of the guns were speaking. Soon individual explosions ceased to stand out; everything was merged into a heavy, dull roar that beat against their ears and filled the air with a continuous tremor. Sometimes the roar rose in volume when a new battery came into action. For a few minutes Paul and Arthur were absorbed. They listened, spellbound, to the roar of the guns. There was something unreal about it. It did not seem possible that those guns were being fired to kill and destroy, for, as they looked out, everything was peaceful still. Save when their eyes fell upon the Uhlan, mounted on his horse. He sat in his saddle, stiff, erect, the very type of the vast army of which he was a tiny, undistinguishable part—as a rule. Now he was that army, for the two who watched him. Still they stared while the shadows advanced, eating into the light spaces that remained, until grey dusk settled over everything, and he seemed to slip into it, and become a part of the landscape. Then his horse moved; he turned, and cantered slowly out of sight.
His going somehow seemed to break a spell.
"Come! We must see what's going on back there," said Paul. "We can see the battery, you know, if those crosses really mean that a battery was to be located on the spot we had placed from the map."
They went to the other side of the little garage and looked out. And, to the east, on a piece of rising ground, that would have been hidden had the de Frenard house still stood, as it had stood before the fire, they saw something that looked like a picture of an inferno.
There was a great gash in the woods, where trees had been cut down ruthlessly. Against the background of the woods that had been spared, a lurid glare threw everything into relief. Great arc lights had been strung, so that a space of ground was as bright as day, and in the light hundreds of men were working. In one place a great furnace was blazing, and the ruddy glow from that cast a crimson light against the cold, white radiance of the electric lamps. Steam cranes were at work; huge cannon were being moved into place on the pedestals that had been prepared for them in advance.
"We were right!" said Paul, exultingly. "That is to be a great battery. They must be very powerful guns, too, or else they would have been ready with the rest, and in action by this time. Ah! I'm glad I thought of the telephone!"
"How fast they are working!" said Arthur. That was what caught his eye in the strange, weird scene. There was no confusion, despite the extraordinary efforts that were obviously being made to hasten the work. Every man, as they could see, even at that distance, knew exactly what he was to do. It seemed that the whole operation must have been planned far in advance, even rehearsed. Such perfect team work could not be the result of chance, nor even of unusually good discipline. No, somewhere in Germany just such scenes must have been enacted in time of peace, that when the grim, harsh test of real war came there might be no delay, no lost motions, no trifling, unforeseen hitch to render useless all the elaborate plan that had been made. This might be war, but it was a grim, cold business, too.
"It's like going to see the steel works at Seraing at night," said Paul. "Except that there's less glare from the blast furnaces, of course."
"A good many of those men aren't in uniform," said Arthur, his keen eyes taking in details as he grew more accustomed to the strange and awe inspiring grandeur of the scene as a whole.
"They're probably workmen from Essen," said Paul. He had a pair of binoculars out now, and was looking closely at every detail of the scene.
"But why should they be there? This is a time for soldiers."
"Not altogether, Arthur. I know—don't you remember what Uncle Henri told us?—that a lot of the workmen from Seraing would have to be along with some of the new field artillery pieces, because the secrets of some things are kept even from the soldiers. Those are probably some of the men from the Krupp works, brought here just to handle these big guns."
"Well, they take their chances, just like soldiers, if they do that, don't they?"
"Of course. They really are soldiers, just as much as the others, but they have special work to do, that they're trained for. That's the only difference."
"What are we going to do now?"
"We're going to try to spoil the little surprise these Germans are preparing for Boncelles and Embourg," said Paul, gritting his teeth. "You stay here by this window, Arthur. I'm going down to telephone to Boncelles. If anyone comes near, tell me at once. It's awfully important, you know, to keep them from finding out about our telephone wire just as long as we can. And listen, in case I call to you. I'll want a quick answer, if I do."
"All right, Paul."
Down Paul went, then, to the gasoline pit. Lying at full length, he drew the telephone instrument from the cunningly devised hiding place he and Arthur had arranged for it. He was fearful for a moment; there was a chance, and more than a chance, that the German scouts might have found and cut the wire; they would certainly have tried to cut every telephone and telegraph wire in the neighborhood, as the first and most obvious precaution. But after a brief delay he was delighted to hear an answering voice.
Quickly he explained who he was, and found that his call had been expected. In a moment an artillery officer, who said he was Lieutenant Delaunay, was speaking.
"What information have you?" he asked, quickly. "I have your maps here before me."
"Find the one that shows the Ourthe and the ground before Boncelles and Embourg," said Paul.
"Right!"
"Mark the house of M. de Frenard, destroyed last night by fire."
"I have it!"
"Good! To the east of the house the ground slopes upward. It is well sheltered from observation by the fort. Your searchlights would be blocked by the woods between the fort and the house. But there is a spot marked on the map by a group of crosses. Do you see it?"
"Right! We decided that would be a battery. The other forts report that they have been fired on from points marked on the maps that you supplied, and that by concentrating their fire on the points indicated on these maps they have silenced a number of field guns."
"I am glad," said Paul, quietly. "I was sure that the information would prove to be valuable. Well, then, this battery is not of field guns. That is why you have heard no firing from it as yet. They are working now, by electric light, and are placing heavy guns—not the very heaviest, I should say, but far heavier pieces than would usually be at the front so soon—probably seven inch mortars."
"Seven inch mortars! That sounds almost incredible!"
"None the less, it is true. You may open fire at once on the spots marked on your map, and do great damage. We are in a position here to tell you whether your shells land properly or not—we can see the battery from here. Will you fire?"
"At once!" said Delaunay. "Go and watch for the shells—then report to us, if you can, whether they were properly aimed. You will be of the greatest service to us if you can do that. It is of the last importance that that battery should not come into action against us—these forts were not intended, when they were built, to withstand the battery of such heavy guns as that!"
Thrilled by the knowledge that the risks he and Arthur had run the previous night had not been in vain, Paul went upstairs and rejoined Arthur. To the east, where the frantic efforts of the Germans to get their heavy artillery into position for the opening attack were still continued, there was no apparent change in the situation.
"No one has come near," said Arthur. "Was the wire working? What did they say at Boncelles?"
Paul told him, and they settled down to wait It was nervous work, tense and anxious. Two of the guns—they counted six of them, in all—were already in position, and finishing touches were being put to them.
"Oh, why don't they hurry?" complained Arthur. "The Germans are not going to wait for them to be ready to fire."
"Listen," said Paul. "The fire is slackening a little, I think. You can see that what we did had some use—they have silenced a good many German guns already, through knowing just where to aim."
"What's that?" exclaimed Arthur, suddenly.
Overhead a strange noise filled the air; a shrieking, whining, whistling sound. It rose, as it came nearer, to a wild whistle, like the blast of a factory signal, releasing the workers at the end of the day's work. The two scouts stared at one another; then, without knowing why, they turned to look at the busy scene to the east. Suddenly, before their eyes, there was a flash; a puff of white smoke rising in the ghostly radiance of the arc lamps, and, after a distinct pause, a dull crash. Then, as the smoke cleared, and they still stood awe stricken, they saw that the bursting shell had torn a great hole in the ground. They saw men running; others were crawling, dragging themselves painfully along. And others still lay very quiet.
For just a moment there was a scene of wild confusion. But then order was restored, and a knot of men ran to the two guns that were uninjured and ready. Paul dived down at once. Quickly he told what had happened, then raced up again. Another whistling overhead, and then a terrific explosion. The two guns lay overturned, ruined.
For five minutes the two scouts, appalled, horrified, stood as if glued to the floor, staring at the scene of destruction. The guns in Fort Boncelles had the range now. Nothing more than Paul's hurried message, "Your shell landed beyond the guns," had been necessary. Now shell after shell was dropped in the midst of the battery that had been wiped out before it could fire even a single shot. There was a deadly, terrifying accuracy about the whole proceeding. Miles away the Belgian gunners, safe in their concrete and steel turrets, were producing this waste and destruction—not by fighting, it seemed to Paul and Arthur, but by a blackboard exercise. That was all it really was.
"You see, they know just where their gun is, and they can adjust it to fire a certain distance. They can take a map, and fire a shell at any given spot, just by mathematics. They know the angle they must use, and they know just how far, and how fast that shell will go. It won't always go quite true, of course; that was why the first shell didn't strike just the right spot."
"But why is that, if everything is so exact? I shouldn't think they'd ever make a miss."
"Oh, there are lots of reasons. For one, after a gun has been fired a few times the inside is affected. The rifling is worn in places, and that gives a slightly different spin to the shell. It doesn't take much of a change in conditions to alter the course of a shell a good deal. And the weather counts, too. Sometimes there is more air resistance; on a day when it is damp and foggy, with low lying clouds, for instance. So, though they have the range exactly, they may have to alter what they call the formula a little."
"And they find out by shooting how nearly right they are?"
"Yes, that's just what they do. It's the only way they can do it, too. That's why it's so important, when guns are being fired at targets miles away, to have some one report the effect of the first shot or two. In a regular battle, in open country, both armies will probably use aeroplanes in this war. The man in the aeroplane can see just where the shells strike, and send back word."
"How?"
"In lots of ways. Some of the bigger ones have a small wireless equipment. Sometimes they drop bombs, that make a smoky patch in the air when they explode—they drop them right over the place the artillery wants to hit, and then the men with the guns get their instruments and figure out just what the range is."
"I don't think the Germans are so very brave, after all," said Arthur, in a moment. "They all ran as soon as the shells began to come."
"That doesn't show they're not brave—it only shows that their officers have some common sense. What good could they do if they stayed there to be killed? They couldn't save those guns, could they? I'm sorry they couldn't have been warned, that's all. You see, they might have thought the first shell was just a chance, lucky shot and so they stayed after that, and tried to fire themselves. But when the second one came plumping into them they knew the truth—and the officers sent them to cover, just as any officers who knew their business would have done."
"I suppose it's war," said Arthur, a little gloomily. "But—"
"It's war right enough," said Paul, with a shudder. "It's not like the pictures we've seen of Waterloo, but it's war. But there'll be plenty of the other sort, too, before it's over, Arthur. You needn't worry about that. The Germans haven't had time to bring up very many men yet, but I expect they will, and they may try to rush the forts. Did you notice that they were stretching a lot of wire fencing near Fort Boncelles when we passed it last night?"
"Yes. What was that for?"
"To stop an infantry charge, or to help to stop it. You see, an attack by infantry is likely to be made at night, when it's harder to see the men being massed. And the wire fence piles up a charge. Oh, I think there'll be some pretty bad fighting of the old-fashioned sort before they capture Liege!"
"I don't see how they can capture Liege at all," said Arthur, stoutly. "The firing of the guns has almost stopped; it seems to me that they've been beaten back."
"It seems so, but I'm afraid it isn't really true," said Paul, with a smile. "The Germans haven't begun yet, Arthur. And there are millions of them. They can put thousands of men in the field to our hundreds—they will outnumber us ten to one, at least. Liege isn't supposed to hold out against them very long. No one expects it to. If it checks them, keeps them from spreading all over Belgium in their first rush, it will have done its part fully."
"I'd like to see them beaten here, just the same," said Arthur, stubbornly.
"I'm going down to report what happened," said Paul. "Keep watch, Arthur, but I don't think we can do much more here. I believe that we won't have to stay here very much longer."
Boncelles had ceased firing by this time, and the close, immediate din was at an end for the time, at least. There was still heavy firing from the northwest, which Paul guessed was from the guns of Fort Pontisse, replying to an attack launched from Vise and Argenteau. Major du Chaillu had said that the Germans would almost certainly try to cross the Meuse at Vise, which was the best place they could choose to launch the cavalry raid he said would be likely to form a part of their strategy.
"We will have troops there," he said, "to try to hold them back, supported by Fort Pontisse. But if they come in great force they can probably break through there, for the place is not well suited to defence."
Everywhere else in the circle that was closing about Liege the firing seemed to have died away. And Paul was anxious to know how the opening skirmish—as he correctly judged it to have been—had gone, as well as to make his report of what he and Arthur had seen. Delaunay was waiting at the Boncelles end of the wire.
"You are there at last!" he said, relief in his voice. "I was afraid you and your brave friend had been hurt."
"No, we're all right. It's the Germans who were hurt! You smashed that battery to pieces, lieutenant! They never got a single gun ready to fire. Your second shell smashed the two that were in position, and the shells after that simply swept the location of the battery. I don't think the guns can be of much use—not for a long time, and until they have been thoroughly repaired, at any rate. How has the fighting gone elsewhere?"
"We are holding them along the Meuse, north of Pontisse. They attacked with their infantry there, but we beat them back easily."
"That is good news! We are holding them all along the line, then?"
"Yes, for the present. But they have not brought up large forces yet. When they do, it will soon be over unless we receive heavy reenforcements. You two had better come in, if you can get away from your position without being detected. There is no more for you to do there. You have already accomplished far more than we hoped."
"We are to report to you at Fort Boncelles?"
"It makes no difference. No, I think you had better try to get into Liege itself and find Major du Chaillu. Good luck!"
"Thank you, lieutenant, and the same to Fort Boncelles! We will try to escape from here. I should think we ought to have no great trouble, for the Germans will be busy at their battery again, as soon as they find the shelling has ceased."
"Yes. We will give them another round or two at intervals during the night, just to let them know that we still think of them."
When he had finished talking to the fort, Paul proceeded to hide the telephone as well as he could. Sooner or later the Germans were certain to come to the garage and it was desirable, for a good many reasons, that they should find no evidences of the use to which it had been put. For one thing, it was impossible to tell what was going to happen. It might well turn out that further use could be made of the telephone later. And when Paul had done, he felt that it was highly improbable that the Germans could discover the installation. And then, just as he finished, Arthur cried out in a voice sharp with alarm, and Paul rushed up to join him.
The ground about the garage seemed suddenly to have sprouted soldiers. There were men everywhere, hundreds of them, advancing in loose order. For a moment Paul hung to the window, fascinated by the sight. Then he caught himself.
"It's an attack on Boncelles!" he said. "I'm going to warn them if I have time. I don't care what happens. Arthur, get away from here! If they come in, pretend you can't speak at all."
And on the word he was off, rushing down again, tearing away the cover he had provided for the telephone. He had to wait an agonizing two or three minutes before there was any answer, and once more he was sure that the wire must have been discovered and cut. But at last there was an answering voice in his ear, and he gave his news.
"Infantry?" asked Delaunay. "They must be mad!"
"They are planning a surprise attack, I suppose," said Paul. "There are a great many of them—and I am almost sure I saw some machine guns."
"If their battery hadn't been put out, I could understand," said Delaunay. "They might have attacked under the cover of a heavy fire from that. But to bring infantry against fortifications! It seems like suicide."
"I must go now," said Paul. "They are all around us. I don't know how soon they may come in. You will be ready for them?"
"Don't worry about that! We'll give them a hotter reception than they expect!"
Paul smashed the telephone now. Perhaps the Germans, if they found it, would think it had been useless from the beginning of the fighting. And, just as he went upstairs, there was a crash at the door, and half a dozen German soldiers, led by an officer, broke in. In a moment Paul was seized; in another two men had gone upstairs, and returned, each with a hand gripping one of Arthur's arms.
"What are you doing here?" asked the officer, in German. Paul understood him very well, but thought it better to pretend ignorance. He answered in French, saying he did not understand, and the German officer repeated his question in French.
"We—we lived in the house that was burned,"' said Paul, pretending to be greatly frightened. "We did not know where to go or what to do. So we stayed here."
"How long have you been here?"
"Since last night."
"You heard the explosions just now?"
"Yes. I did not know what they were."
"Take them back," said the lieutenant to a corporal. "You are in territory occupied by our forces where no civilians have any right to be," he added, speaking to Paul. "Unless you can prove that you are innocent, you will be tried and condemned as spies. Have you any arms here?"
"No, sir," said Paul.
A quick search confirmed his statement. But though that seemed to count in their favor, the order was not countermanded. In a few moments they were on their way through the German lines, and in half an hour they reached what was plainly the headquarters of a brigade at least, perhaps of a whole division. There they were thrust into a small hut that already contained three other prisoners, Belgian peasants. Outside the door there was a guard. They were prisoners of war and if the truth about their doings came out, they would almost certainly be shot, despite their youth.
"What will they do to us, do you think?" asked Arthur. He was trembling, but with excitement, not from fear.
"Nothing, unless they can prove that we have actually been working against them," answered Paul. "And I don't see how they can."
"If those two who chased us when we ran off with their motorcycle saw us, they'd be able to prove it," said Arthur.
"Yes, I hadn't thought of them. But they're prisoners fortunately. I hope they'll be well looked after, too. It would be mighty awkward if they turned up here suddenly. They know just how important were the plans we got and these others don't know anything about that, at all. I believe that our people knowing just where the German guns were placed made a great deal of difference."
The coming of a soldier interrupted them. He told them that they were to be examined at once.
"Then you will be shot," he said, showing his teeth. "As you deserve," he added, trying to look fierce.
But there was a twinkle in his eye that both Paul and Arthur saw. They had been treated very well so far. They had seen nothing, as a matter of fact, to make them think that the Germans were brutal. They made war, and that is brutal in itself. The gentlest men, when they are engaged in a campaign, must do things that they would never attempt of their own free will.
The soldiers now led the way to a house that both boys knew well, for it belonged to a friend of their uncle, whom they had often visited. It was being used as headquarters now by a part of the German staff, and was full of officers who looked at them curiously. They still wore their Boy Scout uniforms. There had been no opportunity, as a matter of fact, for them to change their clothes before the fire, and all the other clothes they possessed had been destroyed, of course, at that time.
"You were caught by our troops in territory occupied by us—within our actual battle line, indeed," said a colonel who received them. "Did you not receive warning that all civilians were to leave the zone in which you were found?"
They could deny that truthfully, and did. Paul was rather glad, as the matter had turned out, that his plan of pretending to be dumb had not been tried. He knew that it would be very hard for Arthur to tell an untruth, even by suggestion, excellent as was the excuse for doing so. Arthur could understand, of course, that to deceive the enemy was permissible, and, more than that, praiseworthy. It was a question simply of whether he could hope to do so successfully.
"The thing to be done now is to get rid of you," said the colonel. He frowned severely, but, as with the soldier who had brought them for examination, there was a smile behind the frown. "I might have you shot, but we should save ammunition. And I might send you back to Germany, to be confined in a fortress, but that would mean that we should have to feed you. If I let you go through the lines toward Huy, will you promise not to come back?"
"Yes, sir," said Paul, heartily. He was amazed, by the prospect of release, but he realized, of course, that while he and Arthur knew what dangerous enemies they had already proved themselves, the colonel did not.
And so, to their surprise and Paul's relief, they were soon being escorted through the German lines, their direction being southwest, in the general direction of Huy, the Belgian city nearest to Liege of the border line of fortresses. Huy, though not as strong as either Liege or Namur, was a link in the chain, having been designed chiefly to supply a base for the centre of an army resisting the advance of an invader, with its wings resting on the more powerful fortifications of Liege and Namur.
Their escort was the same good-natured soldier who had taken them before Colonel Schmidt, and he paid little attention to them. Perhaps he thought that there was no need to watch them closely; perhaps he was simply negligent. But, whatever the reason, Paul was able to discover the composition of the force upon which they had stumbled with a good deal of exactness. He learned to what regiment their escort belonged, and he also saw numbers on helmets and other identifying marks that supplied him with much other information. Neither he nor Arthur knew the real meaning of what they saw, but both boys knew that if they reached the Belgian lines they would find officers of the intelligence department to whom such facts would be valuable in the extreme. It was important, as both knew, for the Belgians and their allies to know something of the German plan.
Paul, indeed, had spoken of that very point to Arthur after their arrest.
"If we see what regiments are here, others can use what we tell them to determine what army corps are being used in this attack, and perhaps what the general plan is," he had said. "Then the French will know where to mass their troops."
"Last stop!" said the soldier, finally. Some time before they had passed a sentry and for nearly a mile they had seen only outposts. "I must go back now. You are all right. We have passed the last of our posts. The next soldiers you see will be Belgians, unless we have cavalry in this direction. Perhaps this is a mistake. It might be better if I shot you myself, to make sure—eh?"
"You needn't trouble," said Arthur, and the soldier roared with laughter.
"All right, then, I won't!" he declared. "You are good boys. I am glad they let you go. But what will you do? You live in Liege, don't you? You can't get back there."
"We have friends in Brussels," said Paul. "I think we shall do very well now, thank you."
"Good! Then I will go back, and you will go forward—so! Good-bye!"
"Good-bye!" they echoed.
He drew himself up, stiffly, saluted, and then, laughing, broke into the famous German goose step, used as a mark of respect to superior officers, for a few paces. In a few moments he was gone.
"I don't believe he wanted to come into Belgium and fight against us," said Arthur. "He was splendid to us, wasn't he? And the colonel was kind, too. It made me feel—oh, I don't know—"
"As if we were being sneaky? I know just what you mean. I felt like that, too. But I told myself that we couldn't think of whether we liked a few Germans who were good to us—that they weren't just people, they were part of the enemy."
"Yes. That's what I thought of, too. But it was hard just the same, Paul. I did feel like a sneak. But I suppose we are doing what is right."
"I wish there was some way of getting the news of what we've learned to-night into Liege," said Paul, frowning. "I don't see just what it all means, but I'm quite sure it's important. I tell you what—I believe they're sending even more troops into Belgium than anyone thought they would. That soldier was from a regiment that is stationed with the army corps that has its headquarters in Koenigsburg, near the Russian border. It seems to me they are going to leave fewer troops there than anyone expected. Perhaps the staff knows that, but then perhaps it doesn't."
"If we get to Huy they can send word from there," said Arthur. "They must have wireless working, even if the Germans have cut all the wires."
"That's so! I hadn't thought. I don't know just where we are, though, do you?"
"Not exactly. They tried to keep us from finding out, I think. But I watched the stars whenever I could, and I think if we turn to the right here and keep on northeast, we'll come to the river road from Liege to Huy. Then we shouldn't have any trouble at all, so far as I can see."
Paul looked up at the stars himself, studied the lay of the land for a moment, and then nodded in agreement.
"Yes," he said. "That's what we'll have to do. Come on, then. We'll cut across the fields. I'd rather do that than take chances on finding a path or a road. It can't be so very far, do you think so?"
"No. Listen, Paul! What's that?"
The exclamation was prompted by a sudden roar in the direction as nearly as they could guess of Fort Boncelles. At the same time the great searchlights that were steadily sweeping earth and air from the forts around Liege seemed to focus on one spot—the spot, they soon determined, from which the renewed sound of heavy firing came.
"That must be the attack on Fort Boncelles that we were afraid of," said Paul.
"Well, they were ready for it, Paul. You don't think it can succeed, do you?"
"I think we ought to know pretty soon. No, I don't see how a fortified position can be carried by an infantry attack when its garrison is entirely prepared, unless the force is so overwhelming that the attacking force can lose an awful lot of men—more men than the Germans have altogether, if we saw all, or even nearly all, of them."
They stayed where they were for a few minutes, listening to the firing. For the first time the note of real hand-to-hand fighting came into the battle din. They could hear the crashing volleys of rifle fire, and the explosive crackling of machine guns coming into play for the first time. That was confirmation enough of their guess that a regular assault on the line of forts was in progress.
"You see that just shows how important it is for them to capture Liege quickly, Arthur," said Paul. "They know perfectly well that when they bring up a few more army corps and their big guns they can batter the forts to pieces and just overwhelm our garrison."
"But they want to have the path clear for the extra army corps. That's what you mean, isn't it, Paul?"
"Exactly. They want the way through and around Liege clear, so that the great army, when it's all ready, can sweep straight on and strike the French before they're ready for them. They don't want to bother with us at all. So they're willing to lose all those men just to save a few days."
"But why are a few days so tremendously important to them?"
"They've got to strike before France is ready, because they can't use their whole army against France. They must keep a great many corps to use against Russia, or else Russian soldiers will get to Berlin before the Germans get to Paris. And their chance is to do it in the first few days of the war. France takes nearly a week longer than Germany to mobilize, and Russia almost a month longer than either France or Germany. You see what we will do at Liege and Namur is to hold up the Germans long enough to make up for their being able to mobilize more quickly."
The firing was dying away now; the heavy guns resumed their work, and the lighter machine guns were silent.
"I think they've repulsed the attack all right," said Paul. "That's why the fire has slackened. Come on! We really haven't so much time to lose."
So they struck off from the road, crossing into a field full of grain.
"It seems a shame to trample down this grain, but it's got mighty little chance of being harvested this season anyhow," said Arthur.
"Yes. The German army will advance this way probably, and, even if it didn't, I don't believe there would be men enough to garner the crop."
Suddenly Arthur stumbled. He had walked against a man who was lying amid the grain. Now the man started up with a cry. And they both recognized Ridder—the man who had dropped the all-important plans!