ON THE ROAD TO CALAIS.
"What's this I see ahead there, boys? Looks like there might be some
other motorcycle fellows around these regions, though I guess they've
left their mounts behind."
It was Hanky Panky who said this. They had halted at a wayside spring to
refresh themselves, for the road was proving pretty dusty.
At noon the three boys had swung through Ostend on the Belgian coast.
The famous watering place did not look just the same as on other
summers, when tens of thousands visited it for the sport to be enjoyed
in the sea. True, it was swarming with people, but in the main soldiers
walked the sands, and there was a decidedly martial air to the place
generally given up to gaiety.
The boys had, of course, been stopped quite frequently. With war in the
land this was only to be expected. Still the papers they carried always
won the day, and they were allowed to proceed. This could hardly be
wondered at when one of those little documents was written wholly by
King Albert himself, and contained an express desire that the bearer and
his friends should be given every possible courtesy by loyal Belgians,
as they had proved their friendship for the little kingdom to the
utmost.
Then later on the motorcycle trio knew they were on French soil, for
they had been stopped by a patrol in the famous blue tunics of the
republican army. Once more had their passports been scanned, and after a
little consultation, in which Rod was able to mingle a few sentences, he
speaking French, they were saluted respectfully by the patrol, and
allowed to proceed.
After that they had arrived at Dunkirk, where later on hundreds of
thousands of British soldiers were destined to be landed.
Once through this city the boys headed on south, aiming to reach Calais
before evening came. So far nothing serious had hindered their forward
progress, and all of them felt light-hearted indeed.
Then had come the halt at the cool wayside spring; and it was after
drinking their fill of the delightful water, thanks to a gourd some kind
person had supplied, that Hanky Panky announced his discovery.
Josh took a look, and then burst out into a loud laugh.
"Why, if you're going to believe because a fellow wears khaki he must
own a motorcycle," he told the other, "you'll have the whole country
full of spinning machines. Those are British soldiers, Hanky; Tommy
Atkins, you know, come over to France to give a helping hand to keep the
Germans out of Paris."
"Sure they are," grinned the other; "as if we didn't spy a lot of the
same up at Dunkirk when we slipped through. I was only guying you, Josh.
But we must be near Calais, don't you think, Rod?"
"Only a few miles more and we'll get there," the leader advised him.
"Like as not there's a regiment of Britishers camped near by, ready to
start off in the direction of Paris when trains can be supplied."
"Huh! they'll need all the hands they can muster to hold back that army
we saw passing through Brussels, I wager," said Josh.[1]
"Hundreds of thousands of Germans, if there was one," added Hanky Panky;
"why, they passed on the dog-trot for hours all that afternoon; and in
the morning the drab-colored line was still moving steadily through the
city, headed south."
"There, those two men are going down the road now, in the same direction
we are," Josh went on to say; "I'd like to come up with them, and hear a
few words in my own mother tongue. Let me tell you I'm tired of
listening to only German, Flemish and French."
The two soldiers, hearing the splutter of the motorcycles behind them,
drew to one side of the road so as to allow the trio of boys to pass.
Instead of doing this the chums dismounted and saluted.
"We're three Americans boys who got caught in the whirl of the war on
the border of the Rhine country," Rod hastened to explain. "We've had a
pretty warm experience getting through Belgium with our machines, but by
great good luck managed to do so. Now we want to get to the front where
the fighting is going on. We've a good reason for wishing to do that,
you see. Where is your camp, may I ask, fellows?"
The two young Britishers exchanged surprised looks. Evidently they
hardly knew whether to believe Rod or not, his story seemed so
remarkable. Still they must have been favorably impressed with his
looks, as nearly every person was, for presently they smiled broadly,
and insisted on shaking hands with each of the motorcycle boys.
"Our camp is about a mile ahead, and alongside the road," one of them
hastened to explain; "you will be held up there, unless you sheer off on
a little side road that lies just beyond that batch of squatty trees."
Evidently this was intended as a gentle hint. Rod, however, only
laughed.
"Thanks for the tip, my friend," he said gaily; "but we mean to spend
the night in Calais, and will be only too glad to meet your commanding
officer. We have papers he will be pleased to see; and there isn't a
general on French soil but who would gladly let us pass on the
recommendations we carry."
"When do you expect to start for the front?" asked Josh just then, as
with his companions he prepared to move on.
"We have received notice that a train will be ready for us an hour after
sundown; and let me tell you we are highly pleased to know it," came the
reply, accompanied with a good-natured smile.
"What is the news from the front?" continued Josh eagerly.
"A tremendous battle is on before Paris," replied the Britisher. "Von
Kluck has swung around from the northwest, and is trying to envelope the
city with his forces, while two other armies are bearing down from the
north and northeast. It will be all the French can do to hold them back.
Most of us expect that Paris will fall inside of a few days. But we're
fair wild to get in the ruck, and strike a blow at the Kaiser's
soldiers. He's called the British a contemptible little army, you must
know."
"Here's hoping that you do have that pleasure!" called Josh as he turned
and looked back over his shoulder, for the three boys had started along
the road; "and my dearest wish is that I get on the ground before all
the scrapping is over."
A short time afterwards and they arrived at the place where the regiment
of khaki-clad Britisher regulars was in a temporary camp. They were
awaiting the summons to take their train when it was made up, and be
whirled off to the scene of carnage, where tens of thousands of men on
both sides were fated to be killed and wounded before three more suns
had set.
Rod expected to be held up, and therefore was not in the least surprised
when a patrol stepped into the road, motioning to the three lads to
halt. They were soon taken to the place where several officers sat
looking over a map of Paris and its environs, where they fully expected
to be in action before another twenty-four hours had passed.
The British officers eyed them with more or less wonder, and not a
little suspicion in the bargain, for they soon realized that the boys
were not English, as they had at first supposed; and ugly rumors
concerning clever German spies had already begun to pass current in the
ranks of the Allies.
When Rod gave a brief account of all their adventures, from the time
they heard the first news of how war had been declared against Russia
and France by Germany, all of them were deeply interested. And they
scanned the wonderful paper bearing the signature of King Albert with
eager eyes, for already had the monarch of the dauntless little Belgian
nation become an heroic figure over across the Channel, on account of
his defiance to the Kaiser's demand that he allow the German army to
march through neutral territory in order to swoop down on Paris.
After a very pleasant ten minutes with the British officers the boys
passed on toward Calais, followed by the best of wishes.
"No use talking," Josh was heard to say, "blood is thicker than water,
after all. I've got some English and Scotch and Irish blood in me, and
that's why my heart is with the cause of the Allies. I suppose if I'd
had German ancestors I'd be just as much for their cause; but all the
same I am not."
Shortly afterwards they arrived in Calais, and put up at an inn
recommended by one of the officers as being decent and reasonable.
Calais was already in the throes of the war, for the streets were
crowded with marching soldiers; and artillery trains could be seen
moving this way and that, as they were being loaded on flat cars to be
taken to the front.
The boys expected to pass the night there, getting such sleep as was
possible, considering the confusion that prevailed. In the morning, if
all were well, they could make an early start in the direction of Paris,
expecting to find splendid roads all of the way, and with nothing to
delay them, unless it were the fact that moving armies clogged the
thoroughfares so that a passage was impossible.
After they had had their supper they wandered forth to look around a
little, because on account of meaning to get away so early they knew
there would be no opportunity to do this in the morning.
All of them felt rather tired, however, and it was not long before Hanky
Panky voiced the general sentiment when he suggested that sleep would
fill the bill better than anything else he knew of.
They had a room with two beds, and as Josh was a restless sleeper he was
given the single cot. It may have been about one or two in the morning
when Rod awoke, oppressed with the conviction that there was something
moving in the room, which suggestion sent a thrill through his whole
being, and aroused him thoroughly.
[Footnote 1: See "The Big Five Motorcycle Boys Under Fire."]