Joseph and his father were both on the tow-path when at last Netteke
decided to move. As she set her ears forward and took the first step,
Father De Smet heaved a sigh of relief.
"Now, why couldn't you have done that long ago, you addlepated old
fool," he said mildly to Netteke. "You have made no end of trouble for
us, and gained nothing for yourself! Now I am afraid we shan't get
beyond the German lines before dark. We may even have to spend the
night in dangerous territory, and all because you're just as mulish as,
as a mule," he finished helplessly.
Joseph laughed. "Can't you think of anything mulisher than a mule?" he
said.
"There isn't a thing," answered his father.
"Well," answered Joseph, "there are a whole lot of other things beside
balky mules in this world that I wish had never been made. There are
spiders, and rats, and Germans. They are all pests. I don't see why
they were ever born."
Father De Smet became serious at once.
"Son," he said sternly, "don't ever let me hear you say such a thing
again. There are spiders, and rats, and balky mules, and Germans, and
it doesn't do a bit of good to waste words fussing because they are
here. The thing to do is to deal with them!"
Father De Smet was so much in earnest that he boomed these words out in
quite a loud voice. Joseph seized his hand.
"Hush!" he whispered.
Father De Smet looked up. There, standing right in front of them in the
tow-path, was a German soldier!
"Halt!" shouted the soldier.
But Netteke was now just as much bent upon going as she had been before
upon standing still. She paid no attention whatever to the command, but
walked stolidly along the tow-path directly toward the soldier.
"Halt!" cried the soldier again.
But Netteke had had no military training, and she simply kept on. In
one more step she would have come down upon the soldier's toes, if he
had not moved aside just in time. He was very angry.
"Why didn't you stop your miserable old mule when I told you to?" he
said to Father De Smet.
"It's a balky mule," replied Father De Smet mildly, "and very
obstinate."
"Indeed!" sneered the soldier; "then, I suppose you have named him
Albert after your pig-headed King!"
"No," answered Father De Smet, "I think too much of my King to name my
mule after him."
"Oh, ho!" said the German; "then perhaps you have named him for the
Kaiser!"
Netteke had marched steadily along during this conversation, and they
were now past the soldier.
"No," Father De Smet called back, "I didn't name her after the Kaiser.
I think too much of my mule!"
The soldier shook his fist after them. "I'll make you pay well for your
impudence!" he shouted. "You and I will meet again!"
"Very likely," muttered Father De Smet under his breath. He was now
more than ever anxious to get beyond the German lines before dark, but
as the afternoon passed it became certain that they would not be able
to do it. The shadows grew longer and longer as Netteke plodded slowly
along, and at last Mother De Smet called to her husband over the
boatside.
"I think we shall have to stop soon and feed the mule or she will be
too tired to get us across the line at all. I believe we should save
time by stopping for supper. Besides, I want to send over there," she
pointed to a farmhouse not a great distance from the river, "and get
some milk and eggs."
"Very well," said her husband; "we'll stop under that bunch of willows."
The bunch of willows beside the river which he pointed out proved to be
a pleasant, sheltered spot, with grassy banks sloping down to the
water. A turn in the river enabled them to draw the "Old Woman" up into
their shadows, and because the trees were green and the boat was green,
the reflections in the water were also green, and for this reason the
boat seemed very well hidden from view.
"I don't believe we shall be noticed here," said Father De Smet.
"It's hot on the boat. It would be nice to take the babies ashore while
we eat," said Mother De Smet, running out the gangplank. "I believe
we'll have supper on the grass. You hurry along and get the milk and
eggs, and I'll cook some onions while you are gone."
Jan and Marie ran over the plank at once, and Mother De Smet soon
followed with the babies. Then, while Marie watched them, she and Jan
brought out the onions and a pan, and soon the air was heavy with the
smell of frying onions. Joseph and Jan slipped the bridle over
Netteke's collar and allowed her to eat the rich green grass at the
river's edge. When Father De Smet returned, supper was nearly ready. He
sniffed appreciatively as he appeared under the trees.
"Smells good," he said as he held out the milk and eggs toward his wife.
"Sie haben recht!" (You are right!), said a loud voice right behind him!
Father De Smet was so startled that he dropped the eggs. He whirled
about, and there stood the German soldier who had told Netteke to halt.
With him were six other men.
"Ha! I told you we should meet again!" shouted the soldier to Father De
Smet. "And it was certainly thoughtful of you to provide for our
entertainment. Comrades, fall to!"
The onions were still cooking over a little blaze of twigs aid dry
leaves, but Mother De Smet was no longer tending them. The instant she
heard the gruff voice she had dropped her spoon, and, seizing a baby
under each arm, had fled up the gangplank on to the boat. Marie
followed at top speed. Father De Smet faced the intruders.
"What do you want here?" he said.
"Some supper first," said the soldier gayly, helping himself to some
onions and passing the pan to his friends. "Then, perhaps, a few
supplies for our brave army. There is no hurry. After supper will do;
but first we'll drink a health to the Kaiser, and since you are host
here, you shall propose it!"
He pointed to the pail of milk which Father De Smet still held.
"Now," he shouted, "lift your stein and say, 'Hoch der Kaiser.'"
Father De Smet looked them in the face and said not a word. Meanwhile
Jan and Joseph, to Mother De Smet's great alarm, had not followed her,
on to the boat. Instead they had flown to Netteke, who was partly
hidden from the group by a bunch of young willows near the water's
edge, and with great speed and presence of mind had slipped her bridle
over her head and gently started her up the tow-path.
"Oh," murmured Joseph, "suppose she should balk!" But Netteke had done
her balking for the day, and, having been refreshed by her luncheon of
green grass, she was ready to move on. The river had now quite a
current, which helped them, and while the soldiers were still having
their joke with Father De Smet the boat moved quietly out of sight. As
she felt it move, Mother De Smet lifted her head over the boat's rail
behind which she and the children were hiding, and raised the end of
the gangplank so that it would make no noise by scraping along the
ground. She was beside herself with anxiety. If she screamed or said
anything to the boys, the attention of the soldiers would immediately
be directed toward them. Yet if they should by any miracle succeed in
getting away, there was her husband left alone to face seven enemies.
She wrung her hands.
"Maybe they will stop to eat the onions," she groaned to herself. She
held to the gangplank and murmured prayers to all the saints she knew,
while Jan and Joseph trotted briskly along the tow-path, and Netteke,
assisted by the current, made better speed than she had at any time
during the day.
Meanwhile his captors were busy with Father De Smet. "Come! Drink to
the Kaiser!" shouted the first soldier, "or we'll feed you to the
fishes! We want our supper, and you delay us." Still Father De Smet
said nothing. "We'll give you just until I count ten," said the
soldier, pointing his gun at him, "and if by that time you have not
found your tongue--"
But he did not finish the sentence. From an unexpected quarter a shot
rang out. It struck the pail of milk and dashed it over the German and
over Father De Smet too. Another shot followed, and the right arm of
the soldier fell helpless to his side. One of his companions gave a
howl and fell to the ground. Still no one appeared at whom the Germans
could direct their fire. "Snipers!" shouted the soldiers, instantly
lowering their guns, but before they could even fire in the direction
of the unseen enemy, there was such a patter of bullets about them that
they turned and fled.
Father De Smet fled, too. He leaped over the frying-pan and tore down
the river-bank after the boat. As he overtook it, Mother De Smet ran
out the gang plank. "Boys!" shouted Father De Smet. "Get aboard! Get
aboard!" Joseph and Jan instantly stopped the mule and, dropping the
reins, raced up the gangplank, almost before the end of it rested
safely on the ground. Father De Smet snatched up the reins. On went the
boat at Netteke's best speed, which seemed no better than a snail's
pace to the fleeing family. Sounds of the skirmish continued to reach
their ears, even when they had gone some distance down the river, and
it was not until twilight had deepened into dusk, and they were hidden
in its shadows, that they dared hope the danger was passed. It was
after ten o'clock at night when the "Old Woman" at last approached the
twinkling lights of Antwerp, and they knew that, for the time being at
least, they were safe.
They wore now beyond the German lines in country still held by the
Belgians. Here, in a suburb of the city, Father De Smet decided to dock
for the night. A distant clock struck eleven as the hungry but thankful
family gathered upon the deck of the "Old Woman" to eat a meager supper
of bread and cheese with only the moon to light their repast. Not until
they had finished did Father De Smet tell them all that had happened to
him during the few terrible moments when he was in the hands of the
enemy.
"They overreached themselves," he said. "They meant to amuse themselves
by prolonging my misery, and they lingered just a bit too long." He
turned to Jan and Joseph. "You were brave boys! If you had not started
the boat when you did, it is quite likely they might have got me, after
all, and the potatoes too. I am proud of you."
"But, Father," cried Joseph, "who could have fired those shots? We
didn't see a soul."
"Neither did I," answered his father; "and neither did the Germans for
that matter. There was no one in sight."
"Oh," cried Mother De Smet, "it was as if the good God himself
intervened to save you!"
"As I figure it out," said Father De Smet, "we must have stopped very
near the trenches, and our own men must have seen the Germans attack
us. My German friend had evidently been following us up, meaning to get
everything we had and me too. But the smell of the onions was too much
for him! If he hadn't been greedy, he might have carried out his plan,
but he wanted our potatoes and our supper too; and so he got neither!"
he chuckled. "And neither did the Kaiser get a toast from me! Instead,
he got a salute from the Belgians." He crossed himself reverently.
"Thank God for our soldiers," he said, and Mother De Smet, weeping
softly, murmured a devout "Amen."
Little did Jan and Marie dream as they listened, that this blessing
rested upon their own father, and that he had been one of the Belgian
soldiers, who, firing from the trenches, had delivered them from the
hands of their enemies. Their father, hidden away, in the earth like a
fox, as little dreamed that he had helped to save his own children from
a terrible fate.