Across the Frontier
Kenneth regained his feet.
"Let's shift," he said.
"Where?"
"Anywhere. Be steady; mind where you tread, and look out for
brick-bats falling on your head."
The caution was well needed. Stumbling over the mass of shattered
brickwork, the lads passed through the jagged gap and gained an open
space to the rear of a long range of storehouses. Even as they did so
another bomb exploded, this time some distance off, though the
concussion was sufficient to complete the destruction of the room in
which they had been but a few moments previously.
Not only in the square but all over the town a state of panic existed.
The terrified horses stampeded; the German troops, temporarily thrown
into disorder, ran for shelter; while those of the civil population who
did not take refuge in their cellars poured out into the streets and
fled towards the open country.
"Rollo, old man, let's make a dash for it."
The idea of taking advantage of the air raid in order to effect their
escape had not until that moment entered Kenneth's head. Both he and
Rollo, temporarily dazed by the explosion, had thought only of getting
clear of the subsiding building.
Everything was in their favour. Scaling a low brick wall, they found
themselves in the company of about forty panic-stricken inhabitants.
In the confusion no one noticed the two hatless lads, for before they
had gone fifty yards they ran past a squad of German troops, who, under
the threats of their officers, were engaged in coupling up a hose to
play upon a fire kindled by the explosion of one of the destructive
missiles.
"Keep with the crowd," advised Rollo. "We're safe enough. The
monoplane has made off by this time."
The street emerged into a wide thoroughfare, where the throng of people
was greatly increased; but after a while, finding that there were no
more detonations, the crowd began to thin, many of the townsfolk
returning to their homes. A few, however, numbering perhaps forty,
unable to control their fear, ran blindly towards the open country, and
with them went the two British lads.
"It's about time we struck a line for ourselves," whispered Kenneth.
"Not yet; we'll stick to the main road," said his companion. "These
people know their way; we don't, and it's no fun blundering across
ditches and marshy fields on a night like this. I wish we had our
coats."
"Being without them is an inducement to keep on the move," remarked
Everest. "If we have to stand about or hide anywhere it will be a
numbing business. The question is, what's our plan?"
"Keep as far as possible in a northerly or northwesterly direction
after we find ourselves alone. That ought to land us in Dutch
territory before morning. It's only a matter of twenty miles."
"And if we are held up?"
"Then we must hide during the day. It wouldn't be worth a dog's chance
to fall in with any Germans."
The lads had been conversing in French, lest their whispers should be
overheard by the hurrying crowd. Amongst that number of Belgians there
might be a spy, and the incautious use of English would be fatal to the
enterprise. But before two miles had been traversed the two British
lads were alone. The rest of the crowd, finding that the explosions
had entirely ceased, had either retraced their steps or had awaited
possible developments.
Taking their direction by means of the position of the North Star, for
the night was now quite cloudless, the fugitives pushed on. They had
no fear of pursuit, since, by the demolition of their place of
detention, the German authorities were bound to come to the conclusion
that their prisoners had been buried under the ruins.
It was too hazardous to attempt to follow the road farther. From their
local knowledge the lads knew that it led to Julimont and Vise, and
that the valley of the Meuse, especially on the Dutch frontier, would
be strictly guarded.
"Railway ahead!" whispered Kenneth.
Outlined against the starry sky was a low embankment, fringed with the
characteristic telegraph poles of the Belgian state railways. Directly
in their path was a culvert, on the top of which were the silhouetted
figures of three greatcoated soldiers. On the other side of the
embankment a fire was burning brightly, its glare alone betraying its
position.
The fugitives promptly retraced their steps for nearly two hundred
yards, then striking off at right angles kept parallel to, and at a
fairly safe distance from, the railway line.
"We'll have to cross that line," whispered Kenneth. "It runs between
Liege and Aix, I believe."
"Let's hope the whole extent of it isn't guarded."
"Only the bridge and culverts; but you can take it for granted that
they patrol between the various posts of sentries. Carry on, old man;
another half a mile and we'll try again."
A short distance farther the fugitives encountered the main road from
Liege to the German town of Aix-la-Chapelle. It was quite deserted,
but beyond it they had to turn slightly to the right to avoid the
railway, which ran in a north-easterly direction.
"Why not have a shot at it?" asked Kenneth.
"Not yet. It will run in a northerly direction again. I noticed that
in the map. We must cross, if possible, somewhere to the south of
Aubel. It is still early in the evening. The nearer midnight we make
the attempt the better."
It was now bitterly cold. A hard frost made the ground like iron.
Since it was too hazardous to proceed at a rapid pace, the lads felt
the piercing air accordingly. With their shoulders hunched and their
ungloved hands thrust deeply into their pockets, they kept on,
shivering in spite of the fact that in the excitement of regaining
their liberty--temporarily, at any rate--their nerves were a-tingle and
the blood surged rapidly through their veins.
"What's that ahead?" whispered Kenneth. "Men?"
The lads peered through the darkness. Fifty yards ahead were several
upright objects at regular intervals, looking exactly like an extended
line of soldiers.
"Germans!" whispered Rollo. "Lie down."
They threw themselves upon the frozen ground and kept the objects under
observation. Before long the effect of their recumbent positions in
contact with the earth became painful. Rollo got to his knees.
"I'll go a little nearer," he whispered. "You stay here. They don't
seem to be moving."
"I'll come too," whispered Kenneth in reply.
"No, you don't. One might escape notice where two might not. I'll be
very cautious."
Kenneth remained. He could just discern the form of his chum as he
slowly and carefully approached the line of mysterious objects.
Presently he saw Rollo regain his feet and walk towards him.
"It's all right," announced Harrington. "They are a row of alders."
His companion arose, slowly and stiffly. He had to swing his arms
vigorously for some minutes to warm his chilled body.
"Let's get on," he said.
"Getting on" was not an easy matter, for upon arriving at the row of
trees the lads found that they lined the bank of a sluggish stream, too
broad to leap across and too deep to wade. Already thin ice had formed
upon its surface. Swimming under these conditions might be performed,
but the undertaking required a lot of pluck on a night like this.
Furthermore, there was the after-effect to take into consideration.
"Now, what's to be done?" asked Kenneth. For once, at least, he
realized that his impetuosity failed him, and that he must rely upon
the calmer, deliberate, and perhaps over-cautious counsels of his chum.
"Cross dry-shod," replied Rollo. "We must follow the bank up-stream
until we find a means of crossing. Not a recognized bridge--that would
almost to a certainty be guarded--but a plank thrown across for the use
of some farmer. It's no use wasting time here."
He stopped suddenly. From behind the shelter of one of the trees a
tall, dark figure advanced swiftly and unhesitatingly.
The fugitives' first impulse was to take to their heels, but before
they had recovered sufficiently from their surprise a voice exclaimed:
"What cheer, mates! What might you be doing here?"
Arrested by the sound of an unmistakable English voice, the lads held
their ground. Kenneth, with studious politeness, said: "We are pleased
to make your acquaintance," and then felt inclined, in spite of his
physical discomforts, to laugh at the absurdity of his remark.
The man held out his hand. Kenneth grabbed it cordially. As he did so
he noticed that the stranger was dressed almost in rags. He wore a
battered slouch hat, a cloak that reached to his knees, and trousers so
short in the leg that there was a gap between the foot of them and his
grey socks. On his feet he wore a pair of sabots.
"What might you be doing here?" he repeated.
"Trying to regain our regiment," replied Rollo.
"Same here. What's yours?"
"The 9th Regiment of the Line."
The man glanced suspiciously at his informant.
"Never heard of it," he declared. "Mine's the Northumberland
Fusiliers--'Quo Fata Vocant' is our motto, and strikes me Fate has led
me a pretty dance. The 9th Regiment of the Line?"
"Of the Belgian army," explained Kenneth, for the man's declaration
sounded like a challenge. "We're British volunteer
dispatch-riders--corporals."
"Same here; I'm a corporal, unless I'm officially dead. But that's
neither here nor there. Question is, where am I?"
"In Belgium, not so very far from Liege."
"That's a blessing. It's a relief to know I'm not on rotten German
soil. But it's a long, long way to Tipperary."
"What do you mean?" asked Kenneth in astonishment.
The Northumberland Fusilier also betrayed surprise.
"You've not heard that song? Well, where have you been to? But let's
be on the move. It's cold enough, in all conscience, without standing
still to be frozen. Where are you making for?"
"The Dutch frontier--it's only about five or six miles off," replied
Rollo.
"Not this child," declared the man vehemently. "So we part company,
chums."
"Why?" asked Kenneth.
"I'm trying to rejoin my regiment. As for being interned in Holland,
I'm not having any."
"You won't be interned; you're in mufti. Have you any idea how far
you'll have to tramp? Across Belgium and a part of France--every mile
of the way held by the enemy. Where are the British now?"
"Pushing the Germans back from Paris, chum; that's what they were doing
when I got copped."
"We were told that the British army was annihilated."
"Some rotten German yarn," exclaimed the corporal contemptuously.
"Take it from me, as one who knows, the Germans have bitten off more
than they can chew. But is that right that the Dutchmen won't keep us
till the end of the war?"
"Certainly, provided you are not in uniform."
"That settles it, then," declared the man. "By the right--slow march.
There's a plank bridge a little way farther up-stream."
This obstacle having been surmounted, the three fugitives made in a
northerly direction. Only once in half an hour did the Northumberland
Fusilier break the silence.
"Got any tommy?" he asked. "Any grub?"
"Not a crumb."
"Rough luck! I haven't had a bite for sixteen hours or more, and my
belt's in the last notch."
"How far have you come?" asked Rollo.
"Goodness only knows. Aching's the name of the show."
"Aching?" repeated Kenneth in perplexity.
"Yes, Aching," replied the man vehemently. "A fitting name, too.
A-a-c-h-e-n, it's spelt, so there!"
The lads understood. He had spelt the German name for the town of
Aix-la-Chapelle. His progress, then, had been very slow--sixteen hours
to cover about twelve miles.
"That's Aubel," whispered Kenneth, pointing to a group of houses
showing up against the sky. "We must cross the line here."
A hurried consultation followed, in which it was decided that Kenneth
should take the lead, the others following at twenty paces interval.
As they approached the line of telegraph posts Kenneth made his way
ahead and dropped on his hands and knees. In this position he covered
the hundred yards that separated him from the railway. He listened.
There was no mistaking the sound he heard. The noise of heavily-nailed
boots treading slowly upon the frosty permanent-way was drawing nearer.
The lad crawled back to his chum, and both threw themselves flat upon
the ground. The Northumberland man did likewise.
Presently two greatcoated figures came into view; German soldiers with
rifles on their shoulders. The pale light glinted on the fixed
bayonets. When opposite the spot where the fugitives were hiding, the
guards stopped, grounded their weapons, and swung their arms. In spite
of their heavy coats they were chilled to the bone.
The Germans showed no haste in proceeding on their patrol. To the
shivering Englishmen it seemed as if they were deliberately prolonging
their stay.
In spite of his frantic efforts the Northumberland Fusilier gave vent
to a half-smothered cough. Almost simultaneously the Germans recovered
their arms and fired in the direction of the hiding trio.
Suppressing an insane desire to break away and run for dear life, the
three lay still. If the patrol had heard any suspicious sound they did
not act further upon it, for after a few more minutes they sloped arms
and tramped stolidly in the direction of Aubel.
Once again Kenneth crawled towards the railway. The way was now clear.
Without being challenged he crossed the rails, and dropped down the
embankment beyond. Here he was speedily joined by his companions.
A little later, to their consternation, clouds began to gather. It was
no longer possible to follow a course by the stars. It became darker,
and prominent objects could not be distinguished. All around there
were untilled fields, as like each other as peas in a pod.
Half an hour's wandering convinced the fugitives that they were
hopelessly out of their bearings, for the wind had fallen utterly, and
even that means of keeping a rough course failed them.
"Ten to one we're walking in a big circle," declared Rollo. "The best
thing we can do is to slow down till dawn."
"Another seven hours," objected the Fusilier. "We'll be dead with cold
by that time. Let's step out and trust to luck."
"There's a barn or something, right ahead," announced Kenneth after
they had traversed two fields. "I vote we make for that and take
shelter."
The building was a detached one. Closer investigation showed that it
was deserted. The door had been wrenched from its hinges and lay about
five yards from the wall. In one angle of the brickwork was a gaping
hole. The walls had been loopholed for rifle-fire, but the thatched
roof was practically intact.
"Steady!" cautioned the British corporal. "There might be somebody
inside."
He led the way, shuffling noiselessly with his feet and holding his arm
in a position of defence. Having completed a tour of the interior, he
announced that it was safe to enter.
The floor was dry, but destitute of hay or straw. Taking off his
peasant's cloak the corporal spread it upon the ground, and on it the
three huddled together for mutual warmth. Already Kenneth and Rollo
were weak with hunger, cold, and fatigue. Their companion's chief
regret was that he had no tobacco. Hunger, although severe, was with
him a secondary consideration.
In this position they remained in a semi-dazed condition until the
Northumberland man announced that dawn was breaking.
With difficulty regaining their feet, the two lads moved their cramped
limbs till they were conscious of the sense of touch. Then out into
the bitterly cold air they went.
"That's our course," said the corporal. "This time of year the sun
rises in the north-east, so this is about north."
"Then it's exactly the opposite direction to which we were going last
night," remarked Rollo. "You can tell that by the position of the
barn."
"Yes, we must have been circling," agreed Kenneth. "We may yet be
miles from the frontier."
On and on they trudged, guided by the gleam of light that was gradually
growing in intensity. Detached farm-houses were now visible, affording
landmarks which, although serviceable, had to be avoided.
"I'd do a burglaring job without a moment's hesitation," declared the
corporal, "only it's too jolly risky. Liberty isn't worth chucking
away for the sake of a chunk of bread; at least, I don't think so. Yet
dozens of Germans have given themselves up to our chaps because they
felt a bit hungry."
His companions agreed, but half-heartedly. Hunger, the ally of
despair, was pressing them hard. They missed the plain but substantial
meals that their captors had provided them with at Verviers.
Suddenly, from behind them, came a hoarse shout.
Turning, the three fugitives saw, to their consternation, that about a
dozen German soldiers were following them and were now about four
hundred yards behind.
"Cut for it!" exclaimed the corporal.
They broke into a steady run. The action was a relief after hours of
slow trudging and sleepless, comfortless rest. Their pursuers also
increased their pace, shouting for them to stop.
"We're holding our own," exclaimed Kenneth after a while.
"Can't keep it up, though," panted the corporal, who, to give himself
greater freedom, had discarded his cloak. "But why don't the beggars
fire?"
It seemed remarkable that their pursuers made no attempt to use their
rifles. Some had already given up the chase, but others held on,
streaming out into an irregular procession.
Ahead was a broad ditch. Kenneth, who was leading, braced himself to
plunge through the coating of ice, but instead his feet slipped and he
rolled sideways to the farthermost bank. His companions crossed more
easily, for owing to the severe frost the water was covered with two
inches of ice.
Rollo and the corporal assisted Everest to his feet. He was unhurt,
but wellnigh breathless. During this episode the leading Germans were
within fifty yards of them; but unaccountably they slackened their
pace, stopping at the edge of the frozen ditch and shouting frantically
at the fugitives.
"That's done it!" exclaimed the Fusilier.
In extended order a number of soldiers, some mounted, emerged from the
shelter of a row of trees on the opposite side of the field, and stood
waiting to receive the exhausted Englishmen. Escape was impossible.
There was no cover either to the right or the left. Behind them were
their pursuers; in front the troops, including cavalry.
"We've had a run for our money," remarked the corporal, as he raised
his arms above his head in token of surrender. His companions noticed
that, in spite of his dejection, the man never blamed them for
suggesting a course that ended in recapture.
The Germans behind them still made no further attempt to advance. They
stood in a row at the edge of the ditch, bawling unintelligibly.
"Hurrah!" suddenly shouted Kenneth.
His companions looked at him in amazement.
"We're all right," he continued. "We've crossed the frontier. These
fellows are Dutch soldiers."