The Belgians to the Front Part 12

The exclamation was prompted by a sudden roar in the direction as nearly as they could guess of Fort Boncelles. At the same time the great searchlights that were steadily sweeping earth and air from the forts around Liege seemed to focus on one spot--the spot, they soon determined, from which the renewed sound of heavy firing came.

"That must be the attack on Fort Boncelles that we were afraid of,"

said Paul.

"Well, they were ready for it, Paul. You don't think it can succeed, do you?"

"I think we ought to know pretty soon. No, I don't see how a fortified position can be carried by an infantry attack when its garrison is entirely prepared, unless the force is so overwhelming that the attacking force can lose an awful lot of men--more men than the Germans have altogether, if we saw all, or even nearly all, of them."

They stayed where they were for a few minutes, listening to the firing.

For the first time the note of real hand-to-hand fighting came into the battle din. They could hear the crashing volleys of rifle fire, and the explosive crackling of machine guns coming into play for the first time. That was confirmation enough of their guess that a regular a.s.sault on the line of forts was in progress.

"You see that just shows how important it is for them to capture Liege quickly, Arthur," said Paul. "They know perfectly well that when they bring up a few more army corps and their big guns they can batter the forts to pieces and just overwhelm our garrison."

"But they want to have the path clear for the extra army corps. That's what you mean, isn't it, Paul?"

"Exactly. They want the way through and around Liege clear, so that the great army, when it's all ready, can sweep straight on and strike the French before they're ready for them. They don't want to bother with us at all. So they're willing to lose all those men just to save a few days."

"But why are a few days so tremendously important to them?"

"They've got to strike before France is ready, because they can't use their whole army against France. They must keep a great many corps to use against Russia, or else Russian soldiers will get to Berlin before the Germans get to Paris. And their chance is to do it in the first few days of the war. France takes nearly a week longer than Germany to mobilize, and Russia almost a month longer than either France or Germany. You see what we will do at Liege and Namur is to hold up the Germans long enough to make up for their being able to mobilize more quickly."

The firing was dying away now; the heavy guns resumed their work, and the lighter machine guns were silent.

"I think they've repulsed the attack all right," said Paul. "That's why the fire has slackened. Come on! We really haven't so much time to lose."

So they struck off from the road, crossing into a field full of grain.

"It seems a shame to trample down this grain, but it's got mighty little chance of being harvested this season anyhow," said Arthur.

"Yes. The German army will advance this way probably, and, even if it didn't, I don't believe there would be men enough to garner the crop."

Suddenly Arthur stumbled. He had walked against a man who was lying amid the grain. Now the man started up with a cry. And they both recognized Ridder--the man who had dropped the all-important plans!

CHAPTER XII

A CLOSE SHAVE

Blind instinct sent them both running, though a moment of reflection would have told them that to run was the worst thing they could have done. Ridder had been asleep and he did not arouse himself fully at first. And perhaps that saved them. He did fire after them once but his aim was bad, and before he could fire again they had leaped a hedge and dropped out of his sight into a sunken road that crossed the fields parallel to the course they were taking toward the river road to Huy.

They had a good start and Ridder was fifty yards behind them when they reached the shelter of the road. Here Paul pulled himself together.

"Stop!" he said to Arthur, seizing his chum by the arm. "Here, get right into the shadow of the hedge here, at the side of the road--there's almost a ditch, too. If he follows us, he may go straight on, and he won't know which direction we took. It's the best chance we have to escape."

"Do you think he recognized us?" asked Arthur.

"I don't know. But our running away like that made him suspicious--we can be sure of that much, anyhow. Look out! I hear him coming!"

Down they crouched, just in time. Ridder came tumbling through the hedge, growling fiercely.

"If I were sure!" he said fiercely and under his breath, so that they could scarcely hear him. "Those verflutchen boys! If I knew that they were the ones who stole my papers!"

In the middle of the road he paused and rubbed his eyes. He reeled a little as he stood; it was plain that the man was in the last stages of exhaustion. The two scouts, even without knowing in detail what the duties of a spy in wartime might be, could understand Ridder's exhaustion. They could guess how much he must have done since they had last seen him.

As they crouched, watching him, he dropped his head, like a dog looking for a scent suddenly vanished, and seemed to hesitate, wondering which way to go. He circled around, apparently looking for something to guide him. The road was hard, and baked dry. There had been no rain for a good many days, and so their footprints did not show. Ridder tossed his head at last in decision. The two scouts began to breathe again in a more normal fashion when he turned down the road and went along, still muttering. He swayed from side to side as he walked.

"Poor chap!" said Paul, finally. "I feel sorry for him! And I'm certainly glad he was so tired! I wouldn't give much for our chances if he had caught us. He knows by this time, you can be sure, what we did with those plans."

"I don't feel sorry for him--he's a spy!" said Arthur.

"We're spies, too," said Paul, soberly. "And a good many Belgians will be spies, and Frenchmen, too, before this war has been going on very long. It's not nice work. There isn't the glory and the excitement about it that there is for the soldiers who are doing the fighting.

But a spy does more for his country, if he succeeds in getting some really important information, than a whole regiment of men who do nothing but fight."

"I suppose so," admitted Arthur, grudgingly. "It's safe to go on now, isn't it?"

"Yes. I don't think we'll find our friend Ridder in the next field!

And I hope we won't run into any more Germans of any sort."

As they walked along, the searchlights still flashed to their right and at intervals sounds of heavy firing came to them from the same direction. But the steady, ceaseless cannonading was over, and there had been no renewal of the sounds that indicated fighting at close quarters. Liege, it was easy to understand, was holding out.

Their course across the fields finally brought them to the river road, where they felt themselves at home. This road they knew thoroughly, having traversed it many and many a time. Now they were well on their way to Huy and felt that there was no reason now why they should not arrive safely. But suddenly Paul stopped.

"There's no use in our getting to Huy before morning, before it's light, anyway," he said. "The sentries wouldn't let us by. You know this is wartime. We're not used to that yet. Everything is changed.

I'm tired, and I know you are, too. I think the best thing we can do is to get some sleep. We can't tell what we may not have to do after we get to Huy, and we'd better be fresh and ready for whatever turns up."

"I am tired," admitted Arthur. "I think you're right. Where shall we sleep?"

"We'll find a place before long," said Paul. "How peaceful it is here!

If we couldn't see the searchlights and hear the guns now and then there'd be nothing to make it seem as if there was real fighting going on within a few miles."

Houses were fairly frequent as they went along, but all were dark.

Their occupants, if they had not fled from the nearness of war, were all asleep. They were farm houses in the main; here, as everywhere in Belgium, the land was cut up into innumerable tiny patches, even smaller than the peasant farms of France. In the fields were endless rows of vegetables--beans, turnips, cabbages, and garden truck of all sorts. This was the sort of country that had made Belgium known for years as the vegetable garden of Europe. Finally they stopped near a dark house, and made themselves comfortable in the lee of a haystack.

And there they slept until the light of the sun came to rouse them.

They awoke to see a peasant boy staring stupidly at them.

"Good-morning!" said Paul, rousing himself. "Can we get breakfast in your house if we pay for it?"

"I suppose so," said the peasant. "My mother may have some for you.

My father has gone to fight."

They followed him to the little cottage, and there they got what the woman could give them for breakfast--eggs and milk, as it turned out.

In a few days, though she did not realize this, neither would be obtainable thereabout at any price; the German host would have spread over the countryside like a swarm of locusts. Perhaps it would pay for what it ate, but it would eat at all events, regardless of that, and the money it might leave in the place of the food it took would be valueless, since money can buy nothing when there is nothing to be sold.

But these were things of which neither the peasant woman nor the two scouts thought. They ate their breakfast with relish, not having realized until they saw the food how hungry they really were, and then, refreshed in mind and body, they began the last stage of their journey to Huy. They had not so very far to go and they entered the Belgian city to the tune of the distant cannon at Liege.

In Huy there was little to make one think of war. People were grouped in the streets, waiting eagerly for the news of what was going on at Liege, for all sorts of rumors were spreading about. On one side it was said that England had already declared war and had destroyed the German fleet; on the other that England had refused to fight at all.

But most of the people of the town went about their business in the most unconcerned way, as if the invasion of the country could not possibly affect them, and their own affairs were still the most important things in the world for them.