THE FLIGHT
From his hiding place outside the cottage, Arthur had been watching
faithfully while Paul explored the inside. He heard the steps that
heralded the approach of a man, and whistled at once, imitating the cry
of a quail, since he thought it better to take the chance of giving a
false alarm than of letting his chum be trapped inside. But it was
already too late, as it turned out. Paul had gone down into the cellar
and let the door fall behind him. So Arthur's warning fell on deaf
ears.
The steps came nearer, and Arthur, wondering why Paul did not appear,
and only half guessing the reason, whistled louder. It was hard for
him to refrain from dashing at once to the rescue. But after a
moment's thought he realized that this would do Paul no good, and that
it was all important for him to remain free, so that, if Paul was made
a prisoner, he could carry the news to Liege and so serve not only
Belgium, but Paul, since that would be Paul's only chance of rescue.
At least so it seemed then.
Now the man whose approach had alarmed Arthur came in sight. He was
trudging along, looking like a veritable peasant. But, now, in the
light of the suspicions that had been aroused that day, Arthur could
see things about this man that distinguished him from the Flemish
dwellers in the neighborhood.
"He is a German!" he thought. "What shall I do?"
For the moment he could do literally nothing. He could only lie still
and watch the man go up to the front door of the cottage and unlock it.
But then, after the German had gone in, Arthur saw that there was still
a light--a light that became visible as soon as the pretended peasant
lighted his lamp. Plainly the door had not been quite closed; the
little streak of light showed that.
Arthur waited breathlessly for some sign that Paul's presence had been
discovered. But none came. He was close enough to the door to hear
the man in the cottage stamping about, and he could guess, of course,
that Paul was concealed in some fashion. He had even the idea of the
cellar but of course he could not be sure that Paul was not above--safe
as long as it did not enter the German's head to climb the stairs. At
any rate, Arthur was grateful for a respite, no matter how brief it
might prove to be. Almost anything was better than the actual
knowledge that his chum had been caught.
"While there's life, there's hope!" he said to himself, grimly.
But it was a good deal easier for him to determine that he would make
some sort of effort to release his chum than it was for him to discover
a practical way of doing so. He had the feeling that at any cost to
Paul he must secure his own freedom; that was the thing that Paul had
impressed most vividly on his mind. At last he determined to risk a
trip to the window by which Paul had made his entrance. He wanted to
look inside; to see, at least, what was going on. Then some means of
helping Paul might suggest itself.
Of course Arthur had seen nothing of the inside of the room, since it
had been dark when Paul had climbed in. Now the first thing he saw
after the man of the house himself, was the trap door that led to the
cellar. He understood at once that Paul must be down there.
"That's why he didn't hear me, of course!" he said to himself. "Now to
get him out!"
Suddenly, just as he was about to leave the window, Arthur was startled
into a stiff and rigid halt by the sound of a heavy knock on the door
of the cottage. The German inside, busy just then in cutting up a huge
sausage that was evidently to be his dinner, seemed to be almost as
startled as Arthur himself. He jumped up, upsetting his chair, and
flung the door open. At once his whole manner changed. He started
back, then stiffened himself and stood at attention. A young man,
dressed in a uniform of a greenish-gray cloth that Arthur had never
seen before, and covered now with dust, walked in. Arthur could
scarcely believe his eyes. Everything about the newcomer pointed to
the fact that he was a German officer, for if the color of the uniform
was unfamiliar, its cut was not. But a German officer in uniform here!
"Zu befehl, Herr Hauptmann!" said the man of the cottage.
"It's come, Froebel," said the captain. He stretched his arms, as if
glad of the chance. "I've had a fine trip from Aachen! The worst
roads I ever tried to push a motorcycle over! But I'm here--so that's
even! There are more coming. General von Emmich's army is on the
march already. We have even now taken possession of Luxembourg.
To-night the Belgian government finally declined to give us the right
to move our troops through their little toy country! So we must fight
them, too."
"I'm not sorry," said Froebel. Some of the stiffness had gone out of
his manner. "I'll be glad to get a chance to do some fighting instead
of this eternal spying! And who knows? If I am lucky, I may get a
little swifter promotion than I had hoped for."
"Oh, I forgot," said the other. "Congratulations, Froebel! You have
your captaincy, and a staff detail. That's unofficial, of course. But
I've seen the order."
"Good," said Froebel, impassively. "But if you stay with the line,
Poertner, you'll be a colonel before I'm a major. Enough--to business!
I have bad news."
"Bad news? What sort?"
"It's that clumsy fool Ridder! He has been mapping the whole field of
operation here, as you know--details of the forts, and the location of
all the concealed gun mountings and platforms we have put in in case
the Belgians should be foolish enough to try to stop us by force."
"Yes, yes! What of it?"
"Eh? He had those papers--those simply invaluable papers! And he was
alarmed by two Belgian boys in Boy Scout uniform--thought they were
soldiers coming to arrest him! He took to his heels and naturally,
being boys, they followed! He dropped his papers going over a fence!
When he missed them he went back. But he found no trace of them. He
is sure that the two boys got them."
"Donnerwetter! That's a bad business, Froebel! I fear for our friend
Ridder! The intelligence department will not be altogether pleased by
this. But what if the boys have them? Is there a chance, do you
think, that they will understand them?"
"Who knows? Some devil might lead them to take them to a Belgian
officer! However--even so, there is this much of good about it. There
is no time for them to do anything. They can't get at our gun
platforms. If they had a week! But you say General von Emmich is
already on the march? That means that war has been declared?"
"No, only that it has begun," said Poertner, with a smile. "It is no
longer the fashion to declare war formally---unless the enemy is like
Russia with us--so far away that we can't strike first. No. The
modern way is to begin fighting and let the other side declare war. So
they seem to take the aggressive."
"I see," said Froebel. "Well, at any rate, it is the time I am
thinking of. They are fairly well prepared here at Liege. The forts
are in order; they have good men, and plenty of ammunition for their
guns. But against our Krupp pieces--"
He laughed to express the chance that the stout forts of Liege were to
have against the German artillery. And outside Arthur, listening,
ground his teeth. He was glad that he had come; already he had learned
facts likely to prove of the first importance. No matter how well the
garrison of Liege was prepared for any emergency, it would be vastly
helpful to know when the blow might be expected to fall. It is one
thing to be prepared for a trouble that may come some day; it is quite
another to know that it is imminent, and to make plans accordingly.
In Arthur's mind an idea now began to take root. The voices of the two
Germans inside died away, and he seized the opportunity to make his way
quietly to the front of the cottage. There, lying on its side, was the
motorcycle of which the new arrival had spoken. Arthur had ridden
motorcycles himself, and now he went up to this one and examined it
carefully. He found that while it was different from the ones he had
ridden, the points of difference were really trifling and that he could
understand it easily enough.
Then he went back for another peep in the window. The two German
officers were busily engaged now in eating, and were washing down the
sausage, amid a good deal of laughter at the rough fare, with two
bottles of wine.
"When we have finished," said Poertner, "we will have a look at your
little arsenal below."
"It's a real arsenal," said Froebel, proudly. "That was rather well
managed, I think. We have managed to bring in the guns, one part at a
time and the ammunition piecemeal, in the same way. These stupid
Belgians never even suspected. It is only just lately that they have
even begun to dream that there might be danger for them if it came to
war. Before they woke up everything was here!"
"Well, your guns will be at work before many hours if all goes well,"
said Poertner. "This sausage of yours is not so bad, after all! Food
is food when you are hungry! Ah, it will be some time, at best, before
we can eat again in Berlin, my friend!"
"Yes. There will be garrison work, even after we have taken Paris.
Still, even so, it should not be so long. Three weeks perhaps--that
should be enough to beat the French this time. We are better prepared
than we were in 1870."
"So are they, I hear. Well, they couldn't be worse off than they were
then! No matter, though--we shall outnumber them from the start. Will
the English fight, do you think?"
"Pah--the English! No! They will be too busy with their troubles at
home. They will have a rebellion on their hands in Ulster. No,
England will have too many troubles of her own at home, to be able to
cross the sea to look for more."
Arthur had heard all he needed. Now he drew back from the window,
picking up several good-sized stones as he did so. And when he was
some distance away, but still able to see the two Germans, he stopped
and waited.
He waited until the two officers had finished their meal and had risen.
Even then he waited until they moved, together, to the trap door.
Then, raising his arm, he let fly the first of his stones. It crashed
through the window, shattering the glass. At once he threw another,
and then still another. He had counted, and not in vain, on the
instinct that would move the two Germans. With a single motion they
leaped to the door. As they did so, even as they rushed out, he ran
diagonally, so as to get away from them, toward the front of the house.
As they stormed around in the direction from which he had thrown the
stones, and so out of sight of the front of the house, he stopped.
They passed within half a dozen feet of him, but, naturally, they had
not expected him to come right toward them, and they passed him
unnoticed.
Then, as soon as they were out of sight, he made for the cottage. He
meant to call Paul. But Paul was at the door as he reached it for he
had understood, from what he had been able to hear, something of what
had happened.
"Come on! Here's a motorcycle we can take!" cried Arthur, eagerly.
He lifted the machine. In a moment he had started the motor, and Paul
leaped up behind him as he got it going.
"Hurry! Here they come!" shouted Paul.
The put-put of the motor had aroused the Germans to what was going on.
Now they stormed back around the cottage. They were just in time to
see the motorcycle being ridden madly off; in time, too, to fire a
couple of shots apiece from their pistols. But their aim was bad: the
boys heard the bullets whistling over their heads. In less than a
minute they were safe!