The Dispatch Riders Part 31

A mile or so farther on they reached a small village. Here most of the inhabitants had left, but a few gazed timorously upon the grey-coated soldiers from the upper windows of their houses.

The sergeant gave the order to halt, then spoke hurriedly to two of his men who were not so intoxicated as the rest. These two walked up to a door and knocked. Receiving no reply, they shattered the woodwork with their rifles and entered the house. In less than a minute they reappeared, dragging between them a peasant so old and feeble that he could hardly walk. Him they bundled into the cart beside the body of the dead Belgian, and the convoy resumed its way.

"The brutes!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Kenneth. "I see their game. They're going to palm off that poor peasant as the man that escaped."

"It seems like it," agreed Rollo; "but what will happen when they read the roll-call? It will give the show away."

"Trust those fellows for carrying out a dirty piece of work. Hist!"

The lads relapsed into silence. They did not want a repet.i.tion of the scene when their last conversation was interrupted. Already they were bruised from head to foot.

Shortly before six in the evening the prisoners reached the outskirts of Louvain. The town, the princ.i.p.al seat of learning of Belgium, was, of course, in the hands of the Germans; but hitherto they had refrained from any vandalism. According to their usual procedure they had terrorized the inhabitants, who still remained in fear and trembling.

Everywhere were placards in French and Flemish, warning the townsfolk that any act of hostility towards the German troops would result in severe penalties. With the examples of the fate of other towns and villages--where the luckless inhabitants, in defence of their lives and homes, had ventured to resist the invaders and had been ruthlessly ma.s.sacred--the people of Louvain had rigidly abstained from any action that could be regarded as aggressive to German authority. On their part the invaders behaved fairly well, and confidence was beginning to be restored amongst the Belgians who still remained in Louvain.

Suddenly a shot rang out, quickly followed by others. Bullets screeched over the heads of the prisoners and their German guards. In a few moments all was confusion. The prisoners flung themselves on the ground to escape the deadly missiles. Some of the escort followed their example. Others, kneeling behind the two wagons that brought up the rear of the procession, returned the fire.

"Good!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Kenneth. "Louvain has been recaptured. That accounts for the firing we heard this afternoon."

"I trust so," replied Rollo. "There's one fellow down--another rascal the less."

It was the German who had received a taste of a British fist. Rendered incautious in his maudlin state, he had recklessly exposed himself. A bullet pa.s.sing through his chest laid him dead on the spot. Another German was leaning against the wheel of a wagon, with his hand clapped to his right shoulder.

Just then the sergeant caught sight of the troops who were blazing away at his party. With a succession of oaths he bade his men cease fire.

Here was another blunder. The Germans were firing at each other.

At length the exchange of shots ceased. A Prussian officer, accompanied by half a dozen of his men, advanced to meet the prisoners and their escort. His face was purple with fury. For ten minutes he bullied and browbeat the luckless sergeant, whose men had not been responsible for opening fire. Then other officers--members of the staff--hurried up, and a hasty consultation followed.

Presently Colonel von Koenik tore up in his motorcar. He was accompanied by another staff-officer, Major von Manteuffel, whose name was presently to be execrated throughout the civilized world.

Von Manteuffel was in a high pitch of nervous excitement. Evidently he was trying to fix the blame upon the men escorting the Belgian prisoners, while von Koenik, cool and calculating, championed their cause.

Kenneth and Rollo watched the scene with well-concealed satisfaction.

The mere fact that some small portion of the mechanism of the Mailed Fist had gone wrong elated them. It was an insight into the bl.u.s.tering methods of German military organization; but they had yet to learn that the Bullies of Europe had a drastic remedy for their errors, whereby the penalty fell upon the weak and helpless.

Von Koenik gave an order, the sergeant bundled Rollo and Kenneth into an isolated house situated about half a kilometre from the town. What befell the Belgian prisoners the lads never knew, but from the window in the upper room in which they were confined, the British youths could command a fairly-extensive view of Louvain and the road which approached it.

Two German soldiers were locked in the room, but they offered no objection when Kenneth and Rollo went to the window.

Above the tiled roofs of the houses, the ancient and venerable church of St. Pierre shot up like an island in the centre of a lake. Other buildings--churches, the Hotel de Ville, and the university--were slightly less conspicuous, yet clearly discernible above the expanse of houses. Along the road were hundreds of grey-coated troops, while a small black patch in that long-drawn-out riband of silver-grey indicated the position of the way-worn band of Belgian prisoners, who were now almost within the limits of the town.

While the British lads were at the window, then German guards produced from their knapsacks some pieces of roll, sausages, and a bottle of wine. Soon the room was filled with the disagreeable sounds of Teutonic mastication, which, unless one has had the misfortune to hear it, cannot satisfactorily be described. Kenneth and Rollo, thanking their lucky stars that they were not compelled to witness the performance, remained at the window.

Suddenly, just as the town clocks were chiming the hour of six, a succession of shots rang out.

"Good!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Kenneth. "The Belgians are driving home an attack."

The two Germans gave not the slightest hint of alarm, but stolidly continued their meal. Their indifference caused the lads to wonder.

It was not a conflict between two armed forces, but a ma.s.sacre! It was the commencement of what was, in the words of the Prime Minister of Great Britain, "the greatest crime against civilization and culture since the Thirty Years' War".

Fortunately Kenneth and his companion were spared the horrors of having to witness the indiscriminate shooting of luckless civilians, but, from their coign of vantage, they were spectators of the scene of destruction that followed.

Tall, lurid flames burst forth from the centre of the town of Louvain.

Gradually the ever-widening circle of fire spread till the bulk of the houses was one vast holocaust.

Throughout that terrible night the lads remained at the window, watching the progress of the conflagration and listening to the shrieks of panic and terror from the brutally-maltreated inhabitants.

That was von Manteuffel's method of covering up the blunder made by his half-drunken troops.

CHAPTER XXIII

A Bolt from the Blue

At seven the following morning the two guards were relieved. During the night they had been stolidly indifferent to everything that was taking place. They permitted their prisoners liberty of action within the limits of the room, but they maintained a ceaseless vigilance, keeping their loaded rifles within arm's-length the whole of the time.

The new guards were men of a different stamp. Their first act upon being left with their charges was to compel the lads to leave the window and take up a position in one corner of the room. At the first attempt at conversation between the two chums the Germans would shout threats which, although unintelligible as words, left no doubt as to their significance.

An hour later a very meagre repast was brought in for the prisoners, the soldiers making a thorough examination of the food before the lads were allowed to partake of it. This was a precautionary measure, lest some communication might have been secreted; but the fact that their food had been coa.r.s.ely handled by the Germans did not make it any the more appetizing. Nevertheless Kenneth and his companion, now almost famished, attacked the meal with avidity.

Just before noon a motor-car drew up outside the house. The guards sprang to their feet, adjusted the straps of their equipment, seized their rifles, and drew themselves up as stiff as ramrods. The expected arrival they knew to be a person of consequence.

It was Colonel von Koenik. He was civil, almost apologetic, to the English prisoners.

"I trust that you were not disturbed by last night's business," he remarked. "There was a serious riot amongst the Belgian townsfolk.

Our troops were treacherously attacked, and in self-defence they were compelled to fire some of the houses. Unfortunately the flames spread considerably, in spite of our efforts to the contrary.

"If you wish to write to your friends in England," he continued, "you are at liberty to do so, and I will see that the letters are forwarded to Holland. Paper and writing materials will be provided. You will understand that all communications must be left unsealed."

He paused for a moment, then in more deliberate tones said:

"It would doubtless be interesting to your fellow-countrymen if you mentioned last night's riot. Englishmen are supposed to pride themselves upon their love of fair play. Our act of necessary--absolutely necessary--self-defence will certainly be distorted by these Belgians. The written evidence of two Englishmen such as yourselves will do much to remove a wrong impression.

Meanwhile, until writing materials can be produced, you are at liberty to take exercise in the garden."

"What is that fellow driving at?" asked Rollo, when the two chums, still watched by their guards, found themselves in a secluded garden enclosed on three sides by a high brick wall. "There's something behind his eagerness for us to write home."

"We'll take the chance anyway," replied Kenneth; "only I vote we make no mention of last night's affair. Of course his version might be right, but I doubt it."

Accordingly the prisoners spent half an hour in writing to their respective parents. The epistles were couched in guarded terms. There was nothing to indicate that they had been harshly treated; no mention of the manner of their arrest. Nor was there a word about the destructive fire in Louvain.

When the Colonel reappeared the unsealed envelopes were handed to him.

Without a word or a gesture he read them through, then wrote something on the envelopes.

"These are in order, gentlemen," he remarked. "You may now seal them, and they will be carefully forwarded."

But months later the chums learnt that the letters had never been delivered. There was a good reason, for von Koenik took the first opportunity of destroying them.