"We shall have to clear everybody out of this double quick," said
Pariset. "If the regiment comes up every soul will be massacred."
"You mean that we must all trek?" said Kenneth.
"Yes. You and I must rig ourselves up as Uhlans, and pretend that we
are convoying prisoners. The villagers had better gather what valuables
they want to save, and migrate, it doesn't much matter where to, so long
as it is as far as possible from the line of the German advance."
He explained his plan to the farmer and the other Belgian peasants. They
suggested that a short and easy way of securing safety was to shoot all
the Uhlans and bury them, but Pariset would not agree to that. The men
having surrendered, their lives at least must be spared.
Without delay preparations were made. The body of the dead sergeant was
hastily buried. The Uhlan prisoners were stripped of their uniforms,
clad in coarse garments provided by the villagers, and roped together.
The wagon was emptied of its hay and loaded up with such little
treasures as the villagers possessed, among them an extraordinary number
of birdcages. Then it rumbled off, followed by the whole population of
the hamlet, men, women, and children, setting off through the rain to
some sequestered village off the main route, where they might hope to be
left untouched by the German tide.
Pariset and Kenneth exchanged their uniforms for those of two of the
Uhlans, provided themselves with civilian clothes, selected two of the
best horses, and after a few minutes' puzzled consideration what to do
with the rest, removed their trappings and let them loose in the fields.
It was now getting late in the afternoon. Rain was still falling
heavily, which was at once an inconvenience and an advantage. For
safety's sake Pariset bandaged his head again; then they started,
Kenneth riding ahead, the captive Uhlans between him and Pariset.
They were under no illusion as to the danger they were incurring. If
they should meet any considerable body of Germans, a word from one of
the prisoners would be their undoing. But what with the rain and the
approach of darkness they hoped to avoid any such contretemps. The
direction of their march was westward, their intention being to approach
Liege from the south-west. So far as they knew the Germans had not
pushed their way in force farther west than Stoumont, so that they were
unlikely to encounter anything more serious than patrols and outposts.
Such were formidable enough.
Marching across fields, by by-ways, through woods, they arrived by
nightfall in the neighbourhood of the river Ourthe. Some few miles
beyond that river they believed that the French army was in line. As
they were passing a cluster of cottages a voice in German called upon
them to halt. Pariset moved up to the front of the prisoners, and
pointing his revolver threatened to shoot if any man spoke a word.
Kenneth meanwhile, answering in German, had ridden a few paces ahead,
and explained to the sentry who had challenged that he was escorting
some Belgian civilians as prisoners to Erezee, and asked in his turn for
news. To his surprise and alarm he learnt that the Germans were in
force a few miles to the south, and expected next day to force the
passage of the Ourthe. At the hamlet at which he had arrived a small
infantry outpost had quartered itself that afternoon.
Getting from the sentry the direction of Erezee, he rode back and led
the party away from the hamlet to the south-west.
"That was a near thing, Remi," he said. "We shall never be able to get
these fellows to our own lines."
"Pity we didn't let the farmer's men shoot them," returned Pariset.
"They'll be our ruin."
"I vote we leave them at the next village we come to. They'll be
discovered by the Germans in their advance to-morrow."
"Not a man of them! The villagers would have put them out of sight by
to-morrow. We must leave them on the road if you want to keep them
alive."
They had still not determined what to do with their troublesome charges
when they caught sight of lights twinkling mistily through the
rain-laden darkness ahead. Kenneth slipped down from his saddle, and
went forward on foot to reconnoitre, the rest halting. In a few minutes
he returned.
"The place is evidently full of Germans," he said. "I heard the eternal
'Deutschland ueber Alles'; the bosches certainly sing well! We must
make up our minds once for all what to do."
After a brief discussion they retreated some distance up the road, out
of earshot from the village. On one side was an extensive plantation,
probably the covert of some Belgian nobleman. Here they decided to
leave their prisoners. The trees would give the men a certain
protection from the rain. They could make themselves heard when their
troops passed along the road in the morning. There accordingly the two
young fellows placed the Uhlans, eking out the rope to bind their legs
as well as their arms. Then they struck down a bridlepath that ran
westward, the direction of the Ourthe.
The night was so dark that though the rain ceased towards midnight they
made but slow progress. In changing clothes neither had provided
himself with matches, so that Pariset's compass was useless. Groping
from bridlepath to lane, from lane to high road, which they quitted as
soon as possible, stealing past the few cottages they came upon, they
wandered for an hour or two until both felt that they must wait for
daylight, if they were to secure themselves against the risk of falling
unawares among the enemy. They tethered their horses in a copse, and,
being wet through, paced up and down to maintain their circulation until
the dawn stole through the trees. Then, weary, hungry, and bedraggled,
they remounted, and pursued their way along a narrow sunken road.
Ignorant of their whereabouts, they could only trust to chance and the
compass, unless they should presently come upon Belgians whom they might
ask to direct them.
But the country appeared to be deserted. When they cautiously
approached the first wayside cottage they came to, they found no one
there. Everything was in order; the Germans had not yet visited it;
clearly the inhabitants had fled at the mere rumour of their advance.
About eight o'clock they came in sight of a large country-house, lying
back from the road in extensive grounds. The aspect of it, and an
armoured motor-car standing at the gates, caused them to draw up within
the cover of the trees bordering the road. The gates were broken, there
were gaps in the wall, and one side of the house was damaged by shells.
"We had better go back a little, and cut across the fields," said
Pariset. "That car is probably German; there may be Germans inside. It
would be risky to pass the house."
"Perhaps it's a Belgian car," Kenneth suggested. "I'm inclined to wait
until we know. We have hopelessly lost our way."
"Look out!" said Pariset.
Two men in German uniform had descended on the far side of the car, and
begun to walk up and down in front of the gates, in the manner of men
stretching their legs after long waiting. Pariset and Kenneth drew
farther back, behind a clump of trees, dismounted, and watched.
In a few minutes they heard the characteristic clatter of a motor
bicycle. From beyond the house a cyclist in uniform dashed up at full
speed; he halted at the gates, dismounted, and exchanging a word with
the waiting men walked up the drive and entered the house. Soon he
reappeared, with a German officer and a civilian. These entered the
motor-car with the two men, and drove away in the direction from which
the cyclist had come. He remounted and rode after them. An old man had
tottered after the Germans; he closed the gates, or what remained of
them; then, after watching the vehicles out of sight, he returned to the
house, stepping much more briskly than when he came from it.
"He's glad to see the backs of them; a Belgian, without doubt," said
Kenneth. "Let us go and ask him the way."
"I'll go; you remain with the horses," said Pariset.
Looking along the road to make sure that no enemy was in sight, Pariset
hurried to the gates, walked up the drive, and rang the bell at the
front door. It was only after ringing twice that his summons was
answered. The door opened; the bent old man, white of hair and beard,
rubbed his hands nervously together as he stood on the threshold.
"Good morning!" said Pariset in French. "You don't speak German?"
"Alas, we Belgians are backward in many things," replied the man in
French with a provincial accent and in quavering tones. "What can I do
for you?"
"First, tell me where I am, where does the road lead to?"
"By Hamoir to Liege."
"Who were the party who left just now?"
"Officers of your own army": he glanced at the Uhlan uniform.
"And the cyclist?"
"A despatch rider, I think." Then, in the same trembling uncertain
voice of an old man, he went on in English: "He was a glue merchant in
the Minories six months ago--Ernst Lilienthal & Co., 2nd floor: mind the
lift! And if I were you, Herr Pariset, I should wear that tureen"
(pointing to the Uhlan helmet) "a trifle more upright, and your shoulder
strap a little more aslant, when you meet more Germans than you care to
tackle single-handed."
At the first words of English Pariset stared; then he smiled; before the
seeming old man had concluded Pariset grasped his hand.
"Mr. Granger! Your disguise is complete, wonderful."
"My dear sir!" said Granger deprecatingly. "But come inside. I want
news of our friend Amory."
"He is only a few yards away. I'll fetch him; he is in Uhlan uniform,
like me. Is it safe?"
"A little more than safe, I hope," said Granger with a smile. "We have
some few hours to spare; not too many, perhaps. You have horses?"
"Yes."
"Tether them behind that shrubbery yonder. I don't recommend the
stables. Bring Amory straight into the house."
Pariset hastened back to the spot where he had left Kenneth.
"Come along!" he said. "I have discovered a friend."
"That's capital!" said Kenneth. "Is he an old friend?"
"Not exactly an old friend. It is that old man you saw come to the
gate. I have only known him a few days--since I met you, in fact."
"That's odd," said Kenneth, puzzled. "We have been together practically
every minute since we met, and I wasn't aware you had made a new
acquaintance of any old man except that farmer and his friend the
miller."
"What is odder is that he asked after you."
"Really! Who is he?"
"Come and see. You'll be glad to meet him."
"Hang your mystifications!"
"Not mine. But there he is at the door. Those fellows, by the way, who
went off in the automobile were Germans, but the old man assured me it
is quite safe to accept his invitation."
While speaking they had led their horses to the house. They tied them
up in a thick shrubbery behind the lawn, and went up the steps to the
front door.
"How do you do, Amory?" said Granger in his natural voice, holding out
his hand.
"By George!" gasped Kenneth. "A splendid get-up; I shouldn't have known
you. What a Proteus you are!"
"Without his prophetic gifts, or I should have expected you. Come in: I
have some interesting news for you."
"But what----"
"What am I?" Granger interposed. "I am an old family servant who, like
the domestic cat, stuck to the old place after the family had left. I
am caretaker, _pro tem._--and the time will be very short, I fancy. We
will bar the door; I am very vigilant. Now I am at your service."